Hero
by ElvenPwner
Summary: Physicist Hero Ramsey meets reformed serial killer Gabriel Gray. After a certain cheerleader took a swan dive at a carnival, it's Dr. Ramsey's turn to change the world. Tried to keep the OC smart and realistic. Rated M for sex. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

The tinkle of a bell and a blast of blessedly warm air welcomed me as I stepped out of the chill of the New York fall and I rejoiced in the heat, letting it soak into my legs. Tomorrow, I decided firmly, I was definitely checking the weather report before getting dressed. Skirts and cold fronts went together like ice cream and pickles.

"I'll be with you in a moment." The voice had come from somewhere in the bowels of the dark shop.

"Take your time," I called back, shifting my attention to inspecting the shop. Clocks of all shapes, sizes, and ages adorned every surface of the store. The few glass cases were full of more varieties of watches than I had known existed, all carefully and lovingly displayed. This area was calm and organized; chaos was obviously neither welcome nor tolerated here. It didn't escape my notice that every timepiece was perfectly synchronized.

Movement caught my eye, and I turned to see a tall, dark haired man coming out of the back. He wasn't actually classically handsome, but his dark good looks were striking and hinted at some Italian or Eastern European descent. The five o'clock shadow already darkening his jaw gave him a rugged look, starkly contrasting his immaculate clothes. "I'm Gabriel Gray. Can I help you?"

I smiled politely at him and shook his hand. "Hero Ramsey."

He blinked at me in the same way everyone did. "Is that some sort of alias?"

Having been through this drill with just about everyone I met, I had already pulled out my drivers' license to show him. "My parents are both Classical Literature professors with a warped sense of humor. My name is from Much Ado About Nothing."

He grinned and handed the card back. "It's one of my favorite plays."

I winked at him. "According to Mom, her vindictiveness was directly proportionate to how long she was in labor. Ariadne was born after 2 hours and an epidural, but my twin brother and I were a 20 hour labor that ended in a c-section."

Gabriel winced. "What's his name? Hercules? Macbeth?"

"Worse. Leonidas."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Moving on the reason I'd come, I pulled an old battered box out of my purse and handed it to him, watching as he opened it to reveal an ancient-looking silver pocket watch and pulled it out for inspection. "I'm not actually sure how old it is, but it's been in my family for generations. I wanted to repair it as a Christmas gift for my dad. As far as I know, it hasn't worked in decades, though. At least, not since I've been alive."

As I spoke, he inspected the watch with ease that spoke of long practice. He pulled a tool out from behind the counter. "May I?" At my nod, he carefully pulled off the back, scanning the interior with an expert eye. It didn't take long before he clicked his tongue and replaced the back. "I can fix it, but it's going to be pricey. I'd estimate the watch is about 150 years old. Most of the parts will have to be special ordered."

I shifted my weight as I listened, silently cursing my choice of footwear. A day mostly on my feet was catching up to me. Damn stilettos for being so cute. "That's fine. I expected something like that."

He smiled and reached down to pull out some papers from the counter. He did some quick calculations in his head and scribbled them down before turning the paper to me. "I just need you to fill this out, and a number I can reach you when you can pick it up."

I nodded, already writing down my information. "This is my cell, but I'm adding a note here; if you need to reach me between 8 and 5 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, you'll have to call the university physics department, since there's no cell reception in the lab."

"You work at a university?" The surprise in his voice made me look up at him. He was watching me, his dark eyes unblinking.

"New York University. I teach physics when I'm not in the lab." I could tell he was trying not to look dubious, and I shot him an understanding smile, sliding the completed paperwork back to him. "I know. I get that look a lot. Being blonde and saddled with a name like Hero, my option was pretty much 'or doctorate' when it came to my career."

He didn't look chagrined that I had guessed what he was thinking. "With your accent and the way you look, I assumed you were some sort of executive."

This wasn't the first comment along those lines that I'd heard in the three months I'd been in New York, and it was all I could do not to roll my eyes and sigh. Instead, I smiled. "I'm originally from Atlanta, but I moved a few months ago. And the rest..." I shrugged, self-consciously tugging on a piece of my long hair. "In my field, it's hard to be taken seriously as a girl. Somewhere in grad school, I decided I didn't want to do the frumpy nerdy thing anymore."

"Just the nerdy thing," he asked, not looking up from the paper, but I caught his mischievous grin. Surprised, I laughed.

I smiled at him, but jumped about a foot in the air as every clock in the shop suddenly began chiming simultaneously. I arched a disgruntled eyebrow at his sudden coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like laughter. "Smooth recovery," I said dryly, rolling my eyes, but unable to stop my own smile.

He didn't bother to hide his smirk. "Alright, I'll call you when I'm done. Should be about five business days."

I shook my head, amused. "I'll talk to you then. Have a good night, Mr. Gray."

0o0o0o0o0

Finished with the equation, I capped the dry erase marker and turned back to the class. "Does that make sense? I see some people nodding…I see some people nodding asleep. Levi! Look sharp!" The marker I chucked at the freshman nailed him in the head and bounced to the floor. I smiled as some of the students chuckled; they were all well acquainted with my method of calling on them. "Let's say that marker has a mass of 1 kilogram, and I threw it at 5 meters per second squared. With what force did it hit your head?"

He froze, and for a second I wondered if he'd reply. I was positive he knew the answer, but all semester I'd been trying to encourage him to say it out loud. Levi was sharp as a whip, but timid. I almost laughed triumphantly when he tossed the marker back to me. "5 newtons."

"Excellent." I didn't aim this time, just tossing the marker into the students in the small lecture hall. Some of them ducked, but the marker was caught by a small, pale hand. "Claire, how did he get that answer?" The pretty blond girl was much more confident than Levi, probably a consequence of her celebrity status as the poster girl for the Specials Movement. Still, physics didn't come as naturally to her as it did to him.

"He multiplied the mass of the marker by the acceleration," she answered, tossing the marker back easily.

"Very good," I said, smiling, catching the marker. I glanced at the wall clock and noticed the time. "Alright, guys. Do you have any questions about the final, or your project?"

A few hands rose, and I leaned back against my desk, crossing my legs in front of me as I tossed the marker at the first hand I saw. "Tyler."

"How many questions are going to be on the exam? Is it going to be very difficult?"

I arched an eyebrow. "You just want me to say it's going to be long and hard?" Some of the students laughed, and Tyler threw the marker back. Another hand was raised, and again the marker flew through the air. "Mark."

"Are you grading on a curve?"

I shrugged, crossing my arms. "You'll need to know this stuff for next semester, so probably not. But then, I'm a woman, and you know how fickle we are."

"Not all of us are going to take Physics 3002," Claire pointed out.

I frowned, gesturing for Mark to throw the marker back. "Most of you are. Why did you take this class?"

"You got really great reviews on RateMyProfessor," she said, grinning.

I snorted. "Yeah, my students tend to drink a lot. Lee."

"Do you want us to email you our projects or bring you hardcopies?" He threw the marker back, but it went wide and clattered against the whiteboard.

"Email. And bonus points will be awarded if your compressed file is smaller than your original file," I added dryly. Another glance at the clock, and I straightened, signaling the end of class. "Remember, this is a scantron test, so you _will_ need a pencil. I'll bring some pencils, but they are of the mini golf variety. I call this the ultimate thrill...taking a final without an eraser." At this, they laughed again as they started to stand. "Alright, guys, I'll see you at the Final."

As they filed out of the room, I started erasing the whiteboard. A few students stayed behind with questions, as usual. For the most part, they were simple questions, clarifying equations or confirming lab times. Claire surprised me, though, lingering after the rest had left. She generally seemed to prefer finding the answers herself or with her study group.

"I got the rough draft of your paper, and it was very good," I said with a smile. "You sure I can't tempt you away from Liberal Arts?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Sorry, but I prefer psychology. Physics seems to be one step away from magic." I snorted, but had to admit thinking the same thing when I'd been a student. "Actually, Doctor Ramsey, some of the other students and I were planning to meet at a bar Friday, to celebrate the end of Finals. We were wondering if you'd like to come."

I couldn't help that my eyebrows practically flew off my face in surprise. "Normally, I'd ask if this were a bribe or something, but you're not the type. Alright, sounds good. Email me with the time and place."

"I'll do that," she said, looking pleased that I'd accepted. I returned her smile as she departed, and finished packing up my papers and laptop.

As I began to make my way home for the night, my thoughts kept returning to her. Claire Bennet, Indestructible Girl. I'd been in grad school a year ago, when she'd leapt off the Ferris Wheel on national television and effectively pulled the blindfold off of the world's populace.

Even more than the general public, the science community had been floored by the exposure of "supernatural abilities". Though evolution was scientific fact and Dr. Suresh's research – now required material for high school and college students alike – certainly explained _why_ certain people had extraordinary abilities, the _how _behind their abilities had been the million dollar question. How did a man's power actually enable him to fly off the ground, let alone break the sound barrier? How could a human control the flow of life and death with just a touch?

I'd earned my Ph.D. through working on that problem. My dissertation had proposed the idea of an omnipresent particle that Special's had evolved the ability to manipulate. When I'd managed to prove its existence, the board had signed my doctorate blindfolded.

Unfortunately, it wasn't just the scientific community that was thrown. Though day-to-day life continued for the most part, culturally, the world was in upheaval. Ultra-religious communities declared Specials an abomination and were seeking to take away rights. Even among the secular population, fear was rampant.

I certainly held no religious beliefs, and thought it was ridiculous to try and deny rights to another human being, but…some of those abilities were terrifying. How did someone like me, with no special ability, protect themselves against someone with superpowers? Specials were like any other demographic: some were the very best of humanity, and some were the absolute worst.

There was something of a wary truce between Specials and Normals; for the most part, no one would bat an eyelash now if some guy leapt into the air and flew away, but many Specials spoke of their ability only to loved ones, if at all. I couldn't blame them; danger from bigots was very real.

Plus, I reasoned, it was probably like owning a truck: once word gets out that you had one, suddenly everyone wants you to help them move.

My thoughts ended abruptly when a hand wrapped around my mouth and I was pulled into an alley, too surprised to even struggle. It wasn't until I was surrounded by the gang that my brain caught up to the situation. Adrenalin surged almost painfully, and I could practically feel my pupils dilate. My bag was already being dumped on the ground and rifled through.

Though my first instinct was to fight, I forced myself to stay still. Let them take what they want, and maybe they'll let me go. One of the men was holding me against his chest, one hand on my mouth and the other pinning my arms to my side.

It wasn't until I felt another hand beginning to pull my shirt up that I started struggling. Robbery was one thing, but I wasn't going to let them rape me without a fight. I bit down as hard as I could on the hand covering my mouth, simultaneously stomping hard on his instep and ramming my head back against his delicate nose.

For some reason, as though my mind were trying to protect itself, calculations were running through my head. The slender steel of my high heels focused 10N of force to a single point on the fragile bones of his foot, equivalent to 22lbs falling on his instep. A clenched jaw was roughly 500 pounds of pressure. The combined mass of a human skull and the sharp acceleration of panic hit his nose with approximately 6lbs of force; not enough to break it, but it would hurt like an S.O.B.

With a cry of pain, he released me long enough to scream bloody murder before one of the other thugs punched me hard on the jaw. My head snapped back, the blow stunning me briefly, but then I was fighting like a wildcat. Sharp nails caught one of them across the face even while another grabbed my hair and yanked my head back hard enough to throw me to the ground. Instinctively, I kicked out blindly.

As though in slow motion, I saw one of the men pull a pistol out and aim it. My eyes closed and I felt my lungs exhale, waiting for the pain.

Instead of the sharp crack of a gun, I heard one of the men scream. My eyes flew open, and I blinked, unable to trust my eyes. The shooter was pulling himself off the ground, and one of the thugs was being hurled against the side of a building by invisible hands. The other three cursed furiously before taking off down the alley. Confused, I clambered to my feet and turned grimly to face whoever had scared off my attackers, knowing I'd never be able to outrun a telekinetic.

"Hero Ramsey?" Though the tone was of utter disbelief, the voice sounded familiar. Blood was dripping into my eyes and I could only make out a shadowy figure approaching. "It's Gabriel Gray. Are you alright?"

I literally sagged against the wall in relief. The watchmaker. He was close enough now that I could see it really was him. Instinctively, I buried my face in his chest, seeking comfort in the pseudo-familiar. Gabriel tensed for a moment, as though unused to contact, but then wrapped his arms around me. "I'm fine," I muttered into his chest, my voice shakier than I'd intended. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes to try and collect myself. Gently, he pulled away just enough to tilt my chin with one hand, inspecting me for damage.

"Yeah, you look fine," he said dryly, but his tone was gentle. "Let me take you to the hospital."

I shook my head, but winced when the movement hurt my head. "No, I just need to go home. I'm fine," I said again. With a deep breath, I pulled back and scanned the alley, frowning when I didn't see what I was looking for. "They took my bag."

"But not your life," he pointed out, watching me intently.

"Thanks to my knight in shining armor." I tried to smile to show I was teasing, but my face didn't want to cooperate, and the joke fell flat.

"You're in shock. My shop's just around the corner. You can get cleaned up, and then I'll take you home," he said gently, but there was underlying steel to the words that said it wasn't a suggestion. He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, I took it.

"I don't live far," I said, letting him lead me out of the alley. "My apartment's only a few doors down from your shop."

To his credit, Gabriel didn't say a word during the five minute walk about me walking so close to him that we were practically occupying the same space, or the fact that I still hadn't let go of his hand. We didn't speak again until we reached my apartment building and I realized the thugs had taken my keys. Perhaps the flustered look on my face told him, because he waved his hand and the door unlocked before I could say anything. He did the same with my apartment door, and it wasn't until I felt him let go of my hand that I realized he wouldn't follow me inside without permission.

It was a small apartment, all I could afford on a professor's salary and my meager savings, but it was the first time I'd ever lived without roommates, and I'd done my best to make it home. The front door opened into a small living room, with a kitchen off to one side that I'd separated with a worn out couch I'd bought on Craigslist my first week. The only real decoration in the room were the framed photos of friends and family that spanned the length of one whole wall, a collection of memories I planned to expand. The bedroom – opposite the front door – was the only room I'd spent real money on; the walls were the same soothing green of summer sunlight shining through leaves, and the king sized bed was my big splurge in my move, though the worn cream-colored comforter had carried me through college.

"Is there someone you can call," he asked. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

I almost said yes, but then I realized they'd taken my cell phone, and I didn't have any numbers memorized. I ran a hand through my hair. "If you need to go, I understand."

He stared at me intently, as though trying to read me. Then, without a word, he stepped passed me into the tiny apartment. It occurred to me as I shut the door that he seemed to know what I needed better than I did. More perplexing was that I felt safer with what was essentially a stranger than I would with any of the friends I could have called.

"Would you like some coffee or something," I asked, balancing myself with a hand on the wall as I unstrapped my heels. He watched me for a moment as I struggled with the strap, and I realized my hand was shaking. Frustrated with my inability to control my own body, I clenched my hand and forced it to stop trembling long enough to undo the buckle.

"Why don't I make some coffee while you go shower," he suggested when I was finally barefoot. I realized, staring up at him, that he was significantly taller than me, even though at 5'8 I was basically eye level with most men. "You're covered in blood, and the hot water will help relax your muscles."

Surprised, I looked down to see he was right. My white button down was liberally speckled with red, though whose blood it was, I couldn't be sure. I decided to avoid any mirrors until I was clean again. "Yeah, you're right. Please, make yourself at home. I'll be back in a bit."

"Take your time. I'll be here until you want me to leave." I could feel his eyes following me as I padded past him to my bedroom. Strangely, instead of being creepy, it made me feel protected to know he was looking out for me.

I made a point not to look at my clothes or in the mirror as I stripped down in the bathroom and turned on the shower. For several minutes, I simply braced my hands on the warm tile of my shower, head bowed under the hot spray, trying not to notice the red tinted water pooling at my drain. The adrenalin rush began to fade, leaving me shaky and exhausted and yet strangely wired.

It still felt like there was a hand clamped painfully over my mouth, still taste my attackers blood in my mouth as I bit his hand. I tilted my head back and let the spray fill my mouth, swilling it around before spitting it out. Was it just my imagination, or could I still smell his breath, a pungent mixture of toothpaste and cigarettes? It felt like even the man's cheap cologne was clinging to my skin from where he'd groped me with cold hands.

Shaking my head as though the motion could clear the dark thoughts, I made a conscious effort to pull myself together. Reaching for my shampoo, I started reciting celestial bodies aloud by distance, letting the repetition and the scent of peaches soothe me. When I ran out of stars I knew, I switched to listing the periodic table of elements.

By the time I stepped back into my living room, I was warm, clean, and calm. Gabriel was holding a steaming mug as he stared at the pictures on my wall, but turned to me as I entered. I smiled at him on my way to the kitchen, intent on getting something warm in my stomach. It was past 8 now, but the aroma of coffee was too tempting to pass up.

"You have a large family," he commented, following me into the kitchen.

I smiled at him, relieved that the expression came naturally again. "I'm the youngest of 6. Four brothers and a sister."

He seemed to realize that I was calmer now and some of the tension left his shoulders. "You seem very close."

I winked at him. "We are, now that we're all adults. We were constantly at each other's throats growing up, though." I took a sip of the coffee and burned my tongue. "Do you have any siblings?"

"I was adopted," he said simply. Something about his tone warned me against pursuing that particular topic, so I steered the conversation away.

"So, have you lived in New York your whole life?"

He shrugged. "Yes, but a few years ago I ended up traveling quite a bit."

I raised a curious eyebrow at him, blowing on my coffee to cool it. "Where'd you go?"

"All over the U.S. I spent some time in Mexico, too," he added as an afterthought.

I led him to the couch. "Sounds exciting. Did you have a favorite place?"

"I never stayed long enough in one place to have a preference," he hedged. Another topic to avoid. Before I had a chance to rack my brain for another topic, he supplied one. "You mentioned you were a physics professor."

I nodded. "Originally, I wanted to be an experimental physicist and test other people's theories, but I fell in love with teaching. That's why I took a job here; they let me do both. Plus, I get to help Special's who can't control their powers."

He regarded me curiously. "Is that something you're interested in?"

"Heck yes. People fear what they don't understand and can't control. If we can show them the science behind it, shove a giant spotlight on the mysteries and show how we can fix the problem, then people will get accustomed to the idea. Then…well, then hopefully there won't be anymore kids being dragged through the street just because they're different," I said bitterly. The event was unique only in that the video had gone viral. Like most of the people back home, I had been deeply ashamed that it had happened in the state I grew up in.

"And you do this research on Specials?" His tone was casual, but some instinct kicked in and warned me to tread lightly.

"It's anonymous and voluntary. The subjects are paid, and there are several organizations that make sure no one is being mistreated," I told him. After a moment, I added, "And we make damn sure that we have no affiliation with companies like Primatech or Pinehearst."

He looked at me sharply, and I met his gaze levelly. It was the truth. After the Revelation, as Claire Bennet's leap had been termed, the real nature of Primatech and Pinehearst had been exposed. I knew of multiple ongoing studies of Specials, and was personally acquainted with many of the people conducting the research. All of us were deeply affronted by the unethical Machiavellian methods utilized by those "scientists".

Gabriel looked at me intently for a long moment, eyes unblinking, and I let him get what information he could glean from my face. Finally, he relaxed, and his gaze turned merely curious. "Why are you so interested in Specials?"

I opened my mouth to give him the cookie cutter answer about helping people, but something stopped me. "My best friend had a power that she kept secret. After the Revelation, she came out about it, because she said that silence helped no one, that those who have the ability to ease suffering have the responsibility to help. " I hesitated before continuing, my voice lowered with still fresh pain. "Eight months ago, she was killed counseling a Special who couldn't control their power."

He inclined his head in silent acknowledgement of my grief. "And you think you can ease someone's suffering…with physics?"

I frowned thoughtfully, wondering how to explain it. "Biology is applied chemistry, which in turn is applied physics. Your power is telekinesis, but I've met other people whose powers aren't so easily controllable, or so benign, and they're asking for help. Like the person who killed my friend. I'm working on a device that will help those people live normal lives, without risk of losing control or having to isolate themselves. So yes, I think physics can ease suffering."

"So the answer is to remove their abilities," he challenged sarcastically, dark eyes flashing.

"No," I shot back, arching an eyebrow. "Their powers are part of who they are. Diabetics take insulin, schizophrenics take anti-seizure medication…why should Specials who need help controlling their power be any different? Hopefully, I'll be able to give them the choice of controlling their ability or blocking it permanently. Why should they be denied help just because it offends someone_ else' _sensibilities? A Special's involvement in research, or their decision to get treatment or not, is their choice to make. Not mine, and not yours."

The answer seemed to surprise him, because he suddenly leaned back and looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. "You're actually telling the truth." I decided not to be offended at his astonishment.

"Of course I am," I said in exasperation. Who had he met in the past that he was so suspicious of people studying Specials? My mind instantly came up with the answer, and I wondered if he had been caught by Primatech or Pinehearst. I decided not to ask.

We lapsed into a surprisingly easy silence. The conversation had taken my mind off of the night's events, and I found myself strangely relaxed. Relaxed enough, in fact, that I found myself fighting a yawn.

My gaze flicked to the wall to check the time, but then I remembered the sign I'd taped to it, "time is relative." It had seemed funny at the time, but without my phone for a clock, I was somewhat at a loss for the time. "I know you probably have work tomorrow, and I don't want to keep you if you need to go. I really appreciate…well, everything," I said, suddenly at a loss. How do you thank someone for saving your life and then taking care of you?

"I'm glad I was there in time," he said, his eyes suddenly piercing again. But then he looked away. "I…" he seemed to change what he was going to say at the last moment, "should go. Will you be alright tonight?"

I stood and walked him to the door. "I'll be fine, Mr. Gray. Thank you."

"After everything…you can call me Gabriel."

I smiled. "Then you should call me Hero. Only my students and my boss call me Dr. Ramsey."


	2. Chapter 2

"Guys, come look at this," Amanda called as she entered the office. "This is insane."

Curious, Steven and I pushed away from the computer and followed our supervisor to the window. "We have _picketers_ now," Steven asked incredulously. Several stories below us, a dozen or so picketers were camped out in front of the building, waving signs and jeering at the students and faculty unlucky enough to pass them. Several of the university's security guards were milling around close by, but as the protesters were technically not on university property, there was nothing security could do.

"They're armed with food, to boot," she said, absentmindedly shrugging on her lab coat as she watched them. "Or they say they are, anyway. I'm surprised I made it inside without egg in my hair."

I shot her a mischievous look. "At first, were you afraid? Were you…petrified?"

Amanda rolled her eyes and headed to the computers, well-used to me by now. "Oh yeah. I kept thinking I could never live without you by my side."

"Is it wrong that I'm kind of proud we warrant picketers," Steven asked, still watching them from the window. "What are they protesting, anyway?"

She shrugged. "I think they're from C.T.H."

At the name, all three of us groaned. The Church of True Humanity, as they'd named themselves, was a "Christian" fundamentalist extremist sect devoted to "ridding the world of the demons impersonating God's children." Having grown up in a small town in the Bible Belt, I could verify that the group seemed to represent the very worst of the religion they claimed to promote. Even other religious organizations hated them.

They'd taken credit for some of the Specials killings, but to date, not enough evidence ever turned up to convict them. Evidently, "though shall not kill" was a commandment they considered open to interpretation. So far, they were just a small thorn in the otherwise massive paw of science, but rumor had it that they were becoming bolder.

"Dude, that guy's wearing a shirt that says, '_We put the 'fun' in 'fundamental extremism'_." Steven looked thrilled. "That's awesome. I want that shirt."

Amanda shot me an amused look and I had to cover a laugh with a coughing fit. "Steven, you'd be a genius if you weren't so A.D.D."

Steven really was brilliant, and I loved his childlike enthusiasm. Sometimes, though, the 19 year old genius had the attention span of a puppy. Amanda and I both secretly agreed that he was the best intern either of us had ever had, but he was something of an idiot savant.

"So where are we," Amanda asked, bringing our attention back to our work. As Steven brought her up to speed on our progress, I began to bring up the new information we'd gotten from our human subjects.

Four hours later, I watched Steven bouncing a tennis ball rhythmically against the wall. Yet again, we had hit another wall and were back at square one.

People seemed to think science worked like a movie montage, with beakers and whirring machines and ground-breaking discoveries made over the course of a few hours. In reality, most of it was mental, sitting around and trying to find what we missed, how we could approach the problem differently, and picking apart our and everyone else's theories.

People got awards for this.

"Scale from one to ten…how sure are we that we can't just use magic," Steven asked.

"Science is just magic without the lies," I pointed out distractedly, still focused on the problems with our current prototype. For every idea we came up with, there always seemed to be a group of Specials whose abilities seemed to completely render the design useless.

The phone next to him started ringing and he picked it up one handed. "Dr. Wolowitz's office. Steven speaking," he answered distractedly. My eyes continued to track the tennis ball's steady progress. After a moment, he caught the ball and spun enough to hold the phone out to me.

I took it. "Doctor Ramsey."

"It's Gabriel."

"Oh, hi, Gabriel! What can I do for you," I asked. Steven's eyebrows flew up in amused surprise at the giant smile and the suddenly high pitch my voice had acquired. Blushing, I made a face and threw a marker at him.

"I finished your father's watch, and I thought I could drop it off while we get dinner."

If it was possible, my blush deepened and my smile got bigger. "That was quite possibly the smoothest line that I've ever heard. Yeah, I'd like that. Actually, if you aren't doing anything tonight, some students invited me to a bar to celebrate finals."

There was a smile in his voice. "I'll pick you up in 20 minutes."

Steven was grinning at me when I hung up. "Hero's got a daaaaate," he sang.

"Jealous?" I didn't even bother trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

He snorted. "Please. I've got a live-in girlfriend who is way out of my league."

Amanda didn't look up from the chart she was reading as she walked in. "How much was she? Plastic's getting expensive these days."

"Was that a problem when you 'met' your 'fiancé'," Steven retorted casually, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Children, do I have to give you a time out," I interjected when Amanda opened her mouth to deliver a scathing comeback.

"Hey, Hero, who signs your paycheck, again," Amanda asked pointedly.

"And on that note," I said hastily, deciding to get out of the line of fire, "I'm leaving."

When I saw Gabriel approaching, I realized I wasn't really dressed for a date. He was sharply dressed in a black coat and button down, his dark hair combed sleekly back. Even as I watched, several women (and a few men) actually turned to watch him pass.

I, on the other hand, had planned for a day of relative seclusion in the lab and then drinks with undergrads, and had dressed accordingly. Jeans and battered converses, combined with a t-shirt that read "Physics: why shit does stuff", made me look like one of the many students milling around the campus. At least I was having a good hair day, I reasoned. With a bright, welcoming smile, I walked over to him.

He smiled at me before nodding his head at the protesters across the street. "What's going on over there?"

I shrugged and glanced over at them. "C.T.H. Way I figure, if they're pissed off at us enough to picket, then we must be doing something right."

Gabriel's lip quirked up as he looked at me in amusement. "You realize that your name is on one of those signs."

Surprised, I turned and saw that he was right. One of the protests was holding a sign loudly proclaiming "H. Ramsey Will Burn!" Amanda and two of the other doctors on the study also had signs detailing their imminent destruction.

"Oh, that's _fantastic_," I breathed, yanking my phone out of my pocket and shoving it in Gabriel's hand. "Gabriel, you have to take a picture of this." I took a few steps away and posed in front of the sign with two thumbs up and a gleeful grin.

Chuckling, Gabriel snapped the picture. "Shall we go to dinner," he asked, watching as I quickly sent the picture to my colleagues. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I grabbed his hand and tugged him down the street. Smiling, he let himself be pulled. "You're enjoying this more than you probably should."

I winked at him, slowing down enough to walk by his side. "Call it a character flaw. So, are you ready to get your drink on with some undergrads? I warn you, though. Undergrads tend to have extraordinary alcohol tolerance. My liver is still wearing the sombrero from last time."

He smiled down at me. "One of my powers is rapid cellular regeneration. Alcohol doesn't affect me."

Taken by surprise by the revelation, I cocked my head to the side. "'One of' your powers," I repeated curiously.

"My actual power is Intuitive Aptitude, which means I understand how other people's powers work, and then I can copy them." He looked strangely wary, as though afraid of how I would react.

"Wow. I may have to commandeer you from the clock business so you can help me with my research," I teased, only half joking.

He arched an eyebrow. "'Commandeer'? Am I a ship?"

I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. "The H.M.S. Booty, and I'm a pirate. Prepare to be boarded. Yaaaar." I finished with a mock salute.

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. "That was the worst joke I've ever heard."

I snorted. "No, I've got one better. So, a Higgs Boson walks into a catholic church. The priest says, 'I'm sorry, but we don't let Higgs Bosons in here'. The Higgs Boson responds, 'but without me, how do you have mass?!'" Like the first time Amanda told me the joke, I started giggling helplessly. Gabriel, to my surprise, started chuckling, too. "Oh, nerd jokes."

He grinned down at me. "Dork."

"You understood the joke," I pointed out, my hands out as if to say "ta-da!"

His grin widened, but he simply shook his head and held the door for me. I thanked him politely and looked around as he talked to the hostess. It was a small hole-in-the-wall Chinese place, and not too elegant, for which I was thankful. It would have been horribly embarrassing going to a nice restaurant in jeans and ratty converses.

Evidently they knew him here, because the waiter greeted him with cheerful familiarity. I thought I might recognize the kid from campus. Maybe one of the frat boys? "Are you going to want the usual tonight, Gabriel, or do you want me to see what the chef recommends?"

"Let's see what Mr. Qiang recommends," Gabriel answered. "And hot sake, please."

As the kid trotted off, I watched Gabriel. "You seem to have an admirer."

He shrugged. "I gave him some advice once and helped him get into school. He's a nice kid."

Noting that he seemed a little embarrassed, I decided to drop it. "So, you said you had a few powers? Would it be wildly inappropriate to ask what they are?"

The corner of his lip turned up, his dark eyes unblinking under those heavy eyebrows. "That depends. Are you in scientist mode, or are you merely curious?"

I opened my mouth to deliver a snappy comeback, but none was forthcoming. I closed my mouth, settling for honesty instead. "A little of both," I offered hopefully, adding a charming smile for effect.

He stared at me with that unblinking look for so long that I thought he wasn't going to answer, that I'd overstepped some unwritten line. Finally, though, he rewarded me with a real smile. "Fair enough, but don't go too analytical on me. A man needs to have secrets."

I held up my hand, touching my thumb and pinky together. "Scout's honor."

"Well, I never could resist a woman in uniform," he said, amused. "You already know about the intuitive aptitude, telekinesis, and rapid cell regeneration. Over the years, I've also acquired clairsentience, sound manipulation, electrical manipulation, lie detection, shape shifting, disintegration, alchemy, and empathy. Oh, and flight," he added as an afterthought, ticking them off on his fingers.

My jaw was on the floor. Gabriel just looked amused, watching me with a small smile as I tried to process. Mind running at a hundred miles per hour, I didn't even notice the waiter reappear with food and sake until a plate was placed in front of me. I jumped, but managed to collect myself in time to thank the kid.

Quickly, I tried to recover and say something clever as Gabriel lifted an eyebrow and poured me some sake. "Holy shit," I blurted, then flushed in embarrassment. Gabriel just laughed. I cleared my throat awkwardly. "So, how does shape shifting feel? Does it hurt, or is it like changing clothes?"

Dinner flew by, but we didn't notice. Gabriel simply answered my questions patiently and occasionally asked some of his own, usually about my research. We both answered what we could, but there were times where I was obligated to protect my subjects' anonymity, or where Gabriel didn't want to answer. Still, it was the most interesting and, oddly, amusing conversations I'd ever had.

Gabriel had just finished telling me about the trial and error period he'd had with clairsentience involving accidentally touching a strange man's underwear in the Laundromat, when I caught sight of my wrist watch. "Oh, my gosh. It's 9 o'clock," I realized. "I still need to go home and change."

"We should go if you want to meet your students," he commented. Gabriel had paid and tipped generously ("I can literally make gold. Let me get the check."), so we simply wished the waiter a good night and left. We caught a cab, and after a brief stop at my apartment to change, we headed back out.

The bar was already busy when we arrived, loud music pounding through the speakers. I recognized it vaguely as one of Alex Clare's. _Too Close,_ maybe? I made a mental note to stop letting Steven control the music when we were in the lab.

Taking Gabriel's hand, I pulled him through the crowd to where I'd seen a group of my students sitting at a high table. Monica, a transfer student from New Orleans with a knack for physics, waved me over, her eyes widening as she took in my outfit. Given that she'd only seen me in conservative business attire, I couldn't blame her. "Wow, Doctor Ramsey. You look great," she exclaimed, giving me an approving up-and-down look. Tyler wolf-whistled loudly.

Gabriel held a chair out for me and I climbed on, arching an eyebrow at the undergrads. "Believe it or not, even professors have lives." Honestly, I wasn't dressed terribly revealing, anyway. I was still wearing jeans, but I'd changed into a halter top that showed off my back tattoos (which Gabriel had commented on with approval). "And since you unruly bastards are no longer my students," I said, with a wink as Gabriel took the empty seat next to me, "call me Hero. This is my date, Gabriel."

As Gabriel and my students traded names and pleasantries, I stopped the Shooter Girl as she passed and bought a round for the table. "Congratulations, because all of you passed my class," I said, holding up my shot glass. "You fuckers are someone else's problem now." Laughing, everyone downed the tequila, pounding the empty glasses on the table.

"We're expecting some other people," Tyler commented hoarsely. "Claire said she would be a little late, but everyone else should be here soon."

"Speak of the devil," Monica commented, looking past my shoulder. I turned to see Levi, the shy genius, approaching with a pitcher and a stack of glasses.

"I'm going to go get something better than bud light," I said dryly in Gabriel's ear. Impulsively, I pressed a kiss to his cheek, quickly departing for the bartender before he could react.

The bar was packed with people, and by the time I made it back to the table, several more students had arrived. Everyone at the table was locked into what appeared to be an animated discussion, judging by the way everyone was leaning in.

Smiling in welcome to the newcomers, I put a hand on Gabriel's back and tried to figure out what they were talking about. Realizing I was back, Gabriel looked at the student who had taken my chair. "That's her seat," he said.

"But-"

"Now." Gabriel's tone brooked no argument, and I smiled as the undergrad scampered away. Taking my seat, I arched an amused eyebrow at Gabriel. He looked a little embarrassed.

Trying to smother that secret, knowing smile all women get when a boy shows how much he likes her, I slid a glass over to him. "I got two Long Islands. So what are we talking about?"

"Specials," Monica said. "You're the lead on the NYU project, right?"

I shrugged. "Sort of. Technically, Dr. Amanda Wolowitz is my supervisor and head of the research committee, but I'm the one who actually does the work."

"I read your dissertation on the Suresh Particle." The speaker was an older man who I'd never seen before, but as he was sitting at the table, I assumed he was with one of the students. "It was impressive research."

"Thank you," I said, surprised.

"What's the Suresh Particle," Amy, Tylers's pretty girlfriend, asked curiously.

I started to answer, but the stranger beat me to it. His eyes were as piercing as Gabriel's as they watched me, but there was something predatory about them. "Dr. Ramsey earned her doctorate and tenure at NYU based on her research proving the existence of the particle. She named it after Dr. Chandra Suresh. It's a particle all around us and in us - much like hydrogen or oxygen - which only Specials have the ability to manipulate."

"I'm flattered, Mr…" I trailed off leadingly.

"Forgive me. My manners seem to have abandoned me." He held out his hand. "Dr. Goswami."

I shook it. "Dr. Ramsey, and this is my friend Gabriel."

Dr. Goswami extended his hand to Gabriel's, but accidentally knocked over a beer bottle. Amy yelped in surprise when she was soaked, but Dr. Goswami's profuse apologies calmed her down. She quickly went to the bathroom to clean herself off.

"Oh, my. That was embarrassing, especially in front of someone of whom I am such a fan," Dr. Goswami twittered.

"Accidents happen," Gabriel said, watching him with an unreadable expression.

"I must confess that I'm curious about your research," Dr. Goswami continued, leaning in and pushing his thick glasses up his nose. "Is it true that you are working on a way to block these abilities?"

Slightly uncomfortable, I unconsciously shifted closer to Gabriel, who casually put an arm across the back of my chair. "Yes. Our goal is to create a device – maybe an implant for permanency, or something you clip onto a belt or necklace that can be removed – that stops a Special's ability to manipulate the Suresh Particle. Theoretically, it would work like a mirror, preventing them from affecting particles outside the field, but would otherwise allow them to interact normally with people and objects." Something occurred to me, and I added, "How did you hear about that, anyway? I thought it was classified."

Dr. Goswami gave a conspiratorial smile. "Well, perhaps to the public, it is. But in certain circles, your name is becoming synonymous with progress."

Sensing my discomfort, Gabriel intervened. "Hero, would you like to dance?" Surprised and relieved, I nodded and smiled. "Excuse us, Doctor."

I thanked him as he escorted me through the crowd to the dance floor by a hand on the small of my back. "I'm not sure what it is, but something about that man sets me on edge."

"You should be on edge," he said casually. "Especially as he came strictly for you. None of your students displayed any physical indication that they knew him. That man is hiding something, for all he never actually lied."

Surprised, I froze and looked at him. Without missing a beat, Gabriel took my hand and spun me out slightly, then back into his chest. Though the song was typical club-grinding music, Gabriel managed to dance in a way that didn't make me feel like we were having sex on the dance floor.

The music on the dance floor was too loud to actually talk and keeping up with Gabriel required all my focus, for which I was grateful. As the DJ changed the songs, I focused on just enjoying myself.

Gradually, I began to lose myself in those dark eyes, in the strong hands on my hips, in the bass so strong that I felt it in my bones.

Every touch of his warm hands on bare skin seemed like a lightning bolt. The press of dozens of hot bodies and the buzz of alcohol went to my head, and if I rubbed against him a little more than strictly necessary, he didn't seem to mind.

He spun me again, and I suddenly found myself with my back pressed against his chest, our hips rocking seamlessly to the beat. His hands moved slowly up my sides, finally reaching my arms and pulling them back around his neck. Gabriel pulled me to lean back against him, almost supporting my weight.

His breath was hot against my neck, his hands beginning a gradual descent back down, caressing my bare skin with the backs of his fingers, his hips rocking against mine. For an agonizingly long time, our lips were just a breath away from each other. He didn't kiss me, dragging the moment out endlessly. I closed my eyes, relishing the feeling, that intoxicating moment right before a kiss.

When Gabriel pressed a kiss to my cheek and pulled away abruptly, my eyes flew open in surprise. Much to my irritation, Monica was approaching. "God save me from cockblocking undergrads," I muttered. Gabriel, still close enough to hear, chuckled low in my ear.

"Doct…Hero," she corrected herself, "the graduating seniors are doing a round, and we wanted you there."

Casting an amused look over my shoulder at Gabriel, I let her take my hand and tug me back to the table. To my relief, Dr. Goswami had left. On the other hand, the sheer amount of shot glasses crammed onto the table told me that this wasn't going to end well.

The small group of my graduating physics students was gathered around the table, and all were staring at me expectantly. Monica and Tyler smiled encouragingly at me. "Oh, I'm supposed to say something," I asked, amused. I could feel Gabriel behind me, his hand possessively on my hip. "Alright. I've only known you for a semester, but you guys are going to change the world. When you accept that diploma tomorrow, you will be become heirs to the proud and sometimes painful heritage of science. Follow your gut, dream big, and use your skills and knowledge to better humanity. Above all...never lose your passion for telling other people why they're wrong, and then backing it up with irrefutable data."

Laughing, everyone picked up the shot glasses. "Here here," Tyler said, and we all downed our shots.

When I didn't immediately pick up another, Allison clucked her tongue and put another in my hand. "We made a pact to get our favorite teacher drunk."

"Oh, god." Smiling, I downed another one, pulling on my years as an undergrad to strengthen my liver.

Twenty minutes and a not-insignificant amount of tequila later, I was pleasantly drunk, tucked safely under Gabriel's arm. I giggled as he told a story about the first time he'd ever gotten drunk. Deciding I needed to "break the seal", I made a quick apology and headed off to the bathroom, Monica hot on my heels.

"He's really nice," she commented as we washed our hands and checked ourselves in the mirror. "And he seems to really like you."

I smiled at her. "I really like him, too. This isn't what I would normally do on a first date, but he sort of sprang it on me."

"He seems to be having fun, though. And don't think I didn't notice how you two were dancing," she added mischievously. I blushed, making her laugh, and we headed back to the table.

When I came in sight of the table, my heart sank. Claire had finally arrived, and was currently arguing with Gabriel for some reason. If looks could kill, Gabriel would be skewered to the wall. He appeared calm, though everyone else at the table was so tense and bewildered they would probably shatter if touched wrong. Grabbing Monica's hand, I hurried over.

"Is there a problem," I asked.

Claire's eyes were blazing as glared at Gabriel, ignoring me. "Sylar, I don't know why you're stalking me again, but if you touch any of my friends or family, I _will_ put you down like a rabid dog."

Confusion morphed into alarm at her words, and I stepped between them. "_Claire," _I said firmly, using my calm professor voice. Her eyes finally focused on me. "I don't know how you two know each other, or what your problem with Mr. Gray is, but your behavior is unbecoming of an NYU student."

The shorter blond looked at me with incredulous indignation. "Are you insane? Don't you know who he is? What he's done? He's a _monster_!"

Irritation flared, aided by the alcohol in my system. Gabriel started to answer, but I put a silencing hand on his leg. My voice was icy and controlled as I looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Miss Bennet, regardless of your personal feelings towards this man, you will remember that even if I am no longer your instructor, you are still speaking to a _tenured_ _university professor_, and you will address me with respect. When you can _calmly_ explain yourself and provide evidence for these claims, I will listen." I stared at her like a parent with a recalcitrant child.

She glared at me for a moment, before closing her eyes and making a conscious effort to calm down. Finally, she opened her eyes and explained. "I don't know what he's told you, but this man is the serial killer named Sylar. He's practically the boogyman of the Specials' World. He's murdered dozens of people."

It seemed incredibly far fetched, but I was a scientist first and foremost. "Alright, Miss Bennet. You've presented your claim. Do you have evidence to back it up?"

She hesitated for a second. Then, before anyone could stop her, she took a pen from the table and stabbed Gabriel in the heart. There was a moment when everyone froze, no one able to believe what had just happened. It felt like time stopped. But then Gabriel, with a resigned sigh, pulled it out the pen, three inches of it covered with blood. As I watched, the wound healed.

"Sylar stole that power from me, when he broke into my house," Claire said grimly.

Truly speechless for the first time in my life, my eyes flew up to meet Gabriel's, silently asking if she was right. Instead of answering, he looked over my shoulder at the blond. "Claire, my name is Gabriel. You know I'm not that man anymore. Jesus, Peter even made me Best Man at his wedding. How many more people need to verify it before you'll believe me?"

It felt like the floor had fallen out from under me, but I forced my shoulders to straighten and my head to turn to Claire. I shoved the turbulent emotions back, knowing I couldn't deal with them yet. "Claire, in the time I've known him, Gabriel's behavior has been above reproach. In fact, I am indebted to him for saving my life. You, however, have just physically and verbally assaulted a man in an unprovoked attack. Next time you point a finger, little miss, I'll point you to the mirror."

Not feeling like staying, I threw sixty bucks on the table to pay for our drinks, before calmly making my way out of the bar. With a herculean effort, I managed to keep a rein on my emotions long enough to hail a cab and get home.

Gabriel scared the crap out of me when I opened my apartment door to see him standing in my living room. "Jesus Christ, Gabriel," I sighed, throwing my keys on the table in irritation. He made no move to come closer, as though afraid he would startle me. For some reason, this pissed me off even more. "For God's sake, I don't think you're going to kill me," I snapped. "Now what do you want?"

If he was relieved that I was angry instead of afraid, it didn't show. "We need to talk about this."

"Talk about what," I asked testily, pouring myself some water. "Everyone has a past. You were under no obligation to tell me about yours, even if it is more colorful than mine."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not exactly something you bring up on the first date. 'Hey, Hero, I happen to be a reformed murderer who stole powers from people who I thought didn't deserve them. Do you want Chinese for dinner?'" His mocking voice made me grit my teeth, but I couldn't refute his logic.

"And how, exactly, does one reform a serial killer," I asked sarcastically.

"By locking him in a nightmare for four years," he snapped. Surprised, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Gabriel ran a tired hand through his hair, looking suddenly defeated. "A telepath locked me in a nightmare. I was alone in New York for four years. 1,460 days of complete isolation and I can remember each one. Claire's uncle, Peter Petrelli, saved me. He locked himself in there with me, and he saved me."

"Peter Petrelli…the frontman for the Special's Movement?" Mr. Petrelli had personally toured my lab and thanked my team for our work. He seemed like a good man.

Gabriel nodded, leaning against the counter. "I know what Claire thinks of me, and God knows she has every reason to hate me. But I need you to know that I'm not that man. I…I'm at peace. And for the first time since the Revelation, I actually have something to hope for," he admitted softly. Gabriel didn't seem the type to say things like that lightly. That he was opening up to me had my attention.

All my anger dissipated at once. If I had a past that I regretted, wouldn't I want someone, just one person, to give me a chance? Though I hadn't known him long, Gabriel had been as honest with me as he could be, and had been kinder to me than anyone else in this city. If I already trusted him with my life, then what was I angry about?

Slowly, I walked over to him, and cupped his face. His eyes, so dark and unreadable, looked into mine. Gently, I pressed my lips to his, once, twice; chaste kisses, kisses of forgiveness and understanding and apologies. And then he was kissing me back, his hands on my waist pulling me against him.

The kiss was so, so sweet, but gradually grew heated. Gabriel grabbed my thighs and spun, setting me on the counter with my legs around him. He buried a hand in my hair, moving his mouth to my neck, and I couldn't suppress a breathy moan.

Knowing I was drunk and my judgment impaired, I decided to tap the breaks before we did something I might regret. When we broke for air, I rested my forehead against his. "We should stop. I'm drunk and a little emotional, and I don't want to ruin a good thing before it even starts."

I could feel the rapid pounding of his heart beneath my hands, but he once again played the gentleman and pulled back. "You're right," he said simply. "But I'd like to see you again, if you're ok with it."

I smiled. "I'd like that, too."

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

New York was beautiful in the snow, I decided as I walked to work. It was still dark outside, but my team had a meeting with a company offering a major grant, and we wanted to get together beforehand and go over our material. My mind was already running over my part of the presentation as my boots steadily crunched over the snow.

Though I was a few minutes early, everyone was already milling around the coffee pot in the break room. "Good morning," I greeted cheerfully as I began to shed my many layers.

"What's so damn good about it," Aisha said grumpily, nursing her coffee.

"Good morning," Robert returned brightly, though he cast a reproachful glance at the other woman. They were the only other PhDs on the team, and I'd liked the cheerful man the very first day I'd met him.

"Ignore Captain Misery," Amanda said dryly, making Aisha harrumph. "Her car was frozen shut this morning and her daughter vomited on her."

"Twice." Aisha pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly, and I winced in pity. Her daughter was only 4 months old, and Dr. Radji was convinced the baby's superpower was projectile vomiting.

"It's only temporary," I said sympathetically. "She'll grow out of it."

"Now that we're all here, shall we adjourn to Amanda's office," Robert suggested. "I was hoping we could practice the presentation at least once before the meeting."

Amanda gestured for me to walk beside her as she led the way. "Did you see the latest reports from yesterday? 20% of the candidates are completely immune to the latest prototype."

I sighed. "We're not going to get any money at the rate we're going. You might have to start stripping just to make ends meet," I teased. Amanda rolled her eyes and elbowed me gently. "Oh, crap. I forgot my flash drive in my coat. I'll be right back." She nodded and I turned back.

I trotted down the hallway to the break room, silently checking off a mental list to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything else. Flashdrive, cue cards, pens —

An explosion strong enough to shake the building down to its concrete foundations flung me into the wall and then to the floor, and I instinctively closed my eyes as debris showered me.

For a moment, I laid there for a moment, too stunned to move. My world was spinning; my ears rang from the pressure and noise, I'd cracked my head on the floor, and I'd hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me. The fire alarms were shrieking and flashing violently, even as the sprinklers erupted. The icy water kick started my stuttering brain and I slowly pushed myself to my feet. Dazed, I turned to see what had happened, and then the blood drained from my face.

The explosion had originated from Amanda's office.

I didn't hesitate to bolt for the room. Aisha was unconscious, slumped against the wall opposite the office. I shoved off the splintered door lying on top of her leg and stopped only long enough to verify she had a pulse. Satisfied she was alive, I kicked off my stilettos and fought my way barefoot through the smoke to the screaming in the office.

Robert was conscious and screaming in pain. His leg was bent at a grotesque angle, and his left hand was pinned to the wall by a pair of scissors. He didn't even seem to realize he was screaming, his green eyes locked on the bone sticking out from his thigh.

I made a quick gut check and yanked the scissors out of his palm, making him scream all the louder. The smoke and intense heat in the room was making my head foggy and I knew I had to get him out. It took all my adrenalin charged strength, but I dragged the screaming, heavy-set man out of the door and set him next to Aisha.

That scream would haunt me for the rest of my life; it was the insane, instinctual, mindless shriek of a dying animal out of its mind with fear and pain.

I didn't have time to think before I bolted back into the now-raging inferno, trying to see through the smoke to find my friend. The few seconds it took to search the office felt more like hours. Dizzy from smoke and fear, I tripped over something in the haze and landed on my stomach.

It wasn't until I turned back that I realized what I had tripped over. My stomach heaved instinctively at the sight of Amanda's blackened flesh. Though I was certain no one could survive such intense injury and burns, I forced my own horror aside and pressed two fingers to her neck in search of a pulse. For her sake, I was glad when I couldn't find one.

The smoke was so thick that I had to crawl out of the room on my hands and knees just to breathe. When I finally made it to the hallway, I threw up violently, bracing myself on the wall as my entire body heaved, physically rejecting what I'd seen the only way it could.

With a herculean show of adrenalin-aided strength, I pulled a now-silent Robert down the hall to the fire exit and leaned him against the wall before returning for Aisha. She was much lighter, and I ended up fireman-carrying her to the emergency stairway.

Satisfied that they were safe for the moment, I yanked my cell phone out of the pocket of my white lab coat.

_No fucking cell reception._

Cursing the building's architect with every profane word I could think of, I sprinted down the 7 flights of stairs to the ground level and threw myself against the fire exit outside. The door swung open and my momentum threw me onto the snow coated pavement, but it didn't matter because I was finally outside.

Startled by the wild exodus of a soot and blood covered scientist, several early morning pedestrians stopped to watch. I turned my attention to the other startled pedestrians who had stopped to watch. "You," I yelled, pointing at a yuppie in a business suit. He looked startled. "Call 911 and tell them we need firemen and ambulances. A bomb went off on the seventh floor. Two critical injuries and one fatality." Praying with everything I had that he would obey, I sprinted back into the building.

I was on the second story before I realized I wasn't alone. I turned to see three middle-aged businessmen grimly following me up the stairs. Seeing people putting themselves in danger to help complete strangers nearly made me break down right there, but I harshly shoved my emotions aside. I couldn't stop yet.

"Get them outside," I shouted over the shrieking fire alarm as the four of us reached Aisha and Robert. If my colleagues were taken care of, I had time to save what I could of our research. Ripping open the fire door, I sprinted down the hall to Amanda's office. By now, the blaze had turned into an inferno, and I had to cover my mouth and nose with my lab coat to combat the smoke as I ran inside the office. Sweat instantly broke out over my skin as I forced myself into the searing heat.

Through some miracle, the computer tower had been thrown against the wall and had shattered from the impact, making my task easier. My eyes were watering furiously from the smoke, making my vision blurry, but I spotted the hard drive hanging partially out of the chassis. The metal was hot from the fire and burned my fingers, but I grit my teeth and forced myself to hang on to the device long enough to drop it into my pocket.

Two full years of research were on this hard drive, and the information it contained was worth more than my own life, let alone a few burnt fingers. Task successfully completed, I sprinted out of the office and back down the hall.

Emergency services had arrived when I stumbled out of the building a second time, Aisha and Robert already being loaded onto stretchers. It was like slow motion as I watched Firemen already unloading massive hoses from massive red trucks. With nothing left to do, my brain just stuttered to a stop, and my legs gave out. I fell to my knees in the snow, and then numbly lay down on my back, letting the ice cool my overheated skin.

Above me, smoke billowed out from the remnants of the office. The black plume starkly contrasted the gray cloud cover, and flakes fell gently on my skin, but I didn't know if they were snow or ash. I found I couldn't care.

Dazedly, I checked my watch, surprised to see it was only 7:45. Fifteen minutes ago, I had teased Amanda about becoming a stripper. My best friend was dead; I had tripped over her charred corpse.

It had only taken fifteen minutes to shatter my world.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Do you have someone who can stay with you," the doctor asked gently. He was clearing me for release, but didn't want me to be alone for the next 72 hours. Whether it was for the smoke inhalation or worry about my mental state, I neither knew nor cared. My brain was just…numb.

"I'll take her home." Both the doctor and I looked up to see a tall, dark man standing at the bed curtain, looking slightly unsure of himself.

"Gabriel," I realized in surprised relief. Of its own free will, my hand drifted up, and Gabriel instantly took it with a concerned frown.

"I'm here," he said gently. Dark eyes turned to the doctor as he came to stand beside where I sat on the bed. "I'll stay with her."

The doctor seemed satisfied, and handed Gabriel a bottle. "Good. I've gone ahead and filled a prescription for Xanax for her, and I'd like her to take it for the next few days." The doctor's eyes were filled with sympathy as he looked at me. "You saved two lives today, Hero. Try to focus on that." He patted my shoulder gently before heading off to his other patients.

I let Gabriel pull me to my feet, remembering at the last minute to grab my ruined lab coat. "How did you know to come?"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we made our way out. "It's been all over the news, and when you didn't answer my calls, I came here. They're calling it a terrorist attack. They say you're a hero."

I scrubbed a tired hand over my face, wincing when I saw the soot that covered my hand. "If I were a hero, I don't think I would feel so…numb."

His arm tightened around me. "I think that's exactly how you would feel."

Still barefoot, I just let Gabriel hail us a cab. The ride home was silent, and when I tiredly laid my head on his shoulder, he just wordlessly wrapped an arm around me.

For the second time in a month, I arrived home without my keys, but Gabriel just used his power to unlock the doors. I heard the soft click as he closed and locked my apartment door behind us, but I didn't even turn around. Silently, I began shedding clothes as I walked to the shower, leaving a path of lab coat, pants, shirt, bra, and panties. I was just… too numb to care about propriety anymore.

I started the water, not even bothering to shut the bathroom door, and climbed in before the spray had a chance to warm up. All I cared about was getting the blood and soot off me, and I let the icy spray beat against my face and stream through my hair until the cold made my skin as numb as my heart felt.

It wasn't until the water began to warm that my calm broke, but when it did, it was violent. No longer in control of myself, I dumped an entire bottle of shampoo over my head, the thick cream sliding through my hair and down my skin, and I scrubbed every inch of my skin until it was raw and sore.

My hands were shaking violently, but I just kept scrubbing beneath the spray. Dimly, the sound of some chick sobbing hysterically filtered through the walls, and I found the sound obnoxious. No matter how many times I frantically scrubbed myself, I kept seeing Amanda's charred skin against my leg and beneath my fingers. How could I be so repulsed? She was my best friend. What was wrong with me? And why wouldn't that stupid woman shut her trap?

It wasn't until I felt arms wrap around me that I snapped back to reality and realize the weeping woman was me. Instantly, I snapped my mouth shut, but didn't lift my head from the spray. I could feel Gabriel pressed against my back. His large hands settled over mine and stilled their frantic scrubbing, gently cupping them and holding them under the spray. That was when I just sank to the floor beneath the spray, and Gabriel sat with me, his legs on either side of mine and his arms holding me close. He wrapped himself around me as completely as he could.

Using his telekinesis, he shut off the water and just held me tightly as I shook uncontrollably, resting his chin on my shoulder. Eventually, my tears ran dry and I stopped shaking, just slumped against him, still curled into a ball.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but finally, a small part of me uncurled itself from the fetal position. _Enough, Hero. This is enough. Get out of the shower. _ I took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly let it out slowly. _Again_. Another calming breath and I straightened, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands.

Sensing that I was calmer, Gabriel released me only long enough to make a towel fly to him, and then he wrapped it around me. Slowly, we uncurled from the protective ball we'd been huddled in, and stepped out of the shower. Gabriel rubbed his hands along the towel, drying me tenderly despite the fact that he was wearing dripping wet clothes. I reached out a hand to still one of his, and he glanced up at me in question.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice hoarse from smoke inhalation and crying. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He cupped my face with both hands, his dark eyes serious. "I'll always take care of you," he said before gently kissing me. I kissed him back, feeling his hands slip from my jaw to my back, rubbing me comfortingly.

We broke apart, and I handed him another towel from the bathroom closet. "I have some sweats you can wear. They're my brother's, but they should fit."

He nodded and followed me to the bedroom, helping me get dressed into a t-shirt and pajama before bothering to take care of himself. Finally, I climbed into my bed and gestured for him to join me. Gabriel seemed unsure what he should do, and I smiled slightly. "We can watch bad movies in bed. Come on. There's plenty of room." My bed had a thick comforter and a ton of fluffy pillows that created a sort of nest, something I usually only utilized when I was feeling bad. I figured this situation certainly warranted it, and though I'd never had a man in my nest, I decided he was worth making an exception for.

Gabriel decided that I should have something in my stomach, even if I insisted that I wasn't hungry, and ordered a massive pizza that we ate while we watched Star Trek movies, sitting in my bed. We watched for hours until I finally fell asleep in his strong arms.

**Please Review**


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas Eve was a clear, cold, beautiful day in New York, but this wasn't where I wanted to be. Sipping my coffee, I stared at the collage of framed pictures on my living room wall, for once allowing my homesickness to wash over me.

This was the first time I'd ever not been home for Christmas and my heart ached because of it, but I knew I'd made the right decision. After the bombing, I'd had to fight like a wildcat to keep the project from being shut down. Even when I'd won that battle, convincing the rest of my team to keep working had taken everything I could possibly think of.

As Amanda's right hand man, I'd been made point-man for the project, and thrown in the deep end. I'd only just managed to pick up the pieces of the team, even if I hadn't quite managed to pick up the pieces of myself. Though I desperately wanted to go home for Christmas, I knew that the one sight of Mom would dissolve the glue and tape I was using to hold myself together. This project was just too important to risk it; there were so many good people out there at the mercy of their own powers, and I could feel the weight of them on my shoulders.

Mom hadn't understood, but Dad was like me. He'd known exactly what I meant, and why I had to stay, and had surprised me by overnighting all my gifts to my apartment. I tried to console myself that I'd gotten to go home for Thanksgiving, but with everyone I knew in New York gone home to their own families, I was unable to shake the loneliness.

I checked my watch, deciding that 2 p.m. was a good time. I curled up on the couch, hot chocolate in hand, and called my mother.

"Hello?" Patricia Ramsey's familiar drawl was a soothing balm.

"Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas."

There was a smile in her voice as she suddenly started yelling. "Thomas! Your daughter's on the phone! No, I don't care if you're busy with the turkey. Get your butt over here!" She sounded exasperated as she shifted her attention back to me. "Oh, you know your father, sweetie. He and your brothers are using the turkey as an excuse to drink and talk away from their wives."

I laughed. "It's tradition at this point. If they actually came inside and helped with the cooking or kids, the universe might implode. So is everyone at the house?"

She snorted. "Of course they are. Everyone made it here by 11 this morning. We wish you were here, baby."

"I know, Momma. I wish I were there, too. I miss everyone so much. Did my presents make it in time?"

"Yes, they did. Tucker's trying to convince your sister to let him open one. What did you get that child, anyway?"

I snickered at how pissed my sister was going to be when my niece and nephew opened their gifts. "Well, I was torn between a kid's chemistry set and a physics set, so I got one for each of them. I figured Tucker can make catapults to annoy Lilly, and Lilly can set Tucker's toys on fire."

"Ariadne is going to kill you for that, you know." Momma sounded amused. "I still don't understand how my _adult children _can be so successful and intelligent, yet take such childish glee in driving each other crazy. Clearly you get it from your father."

"Oh yeah, right," I scoffed. "Because you don't ambush Uncle Patrick with a water gun on Independence Day…_every year._"

She sniffed indignantly. "Well, it must be your father's influence. And in my defense, Patrick should have learned by now not to come over without a change of clothes."

"And in _my_ defense," I retorted innocently, "Ariadne should know better than to let her siblings anywhere near her children. Tucker would have figured out how to blow up a toilet sooner or later. I was just providing a safe, controlled environment in which to learn."

I could practically hear her roll her eyes. "Any one of you could attend a Mensa Convention, yet you all use your powers for evil. Anyway, your sister seems to want to speak with you."

For the next hour, the phone was passed around and I managed to speak with everyone. Though I still missed them all terribly, it was comforting to hear their voices and know that Christmas was the same as it always was, even if it was hundreds of miles away. Finally, though, I hung up the phone. Christmas alone was incredibly depressing.

I toiled around my apartment for a few hours, doing the heavy cleaning I'd been putting off in favor of work. Unfortunately, even a chronic procrastinator eventually runs out of things to do. My apartment was spotless, my Spring semester classes planned, closet and kitchen both organized, and the paperwork for the project electronically submitted. I even deep conditioned my hair and painted my nails bright purple in an effort to occupy my time.

Finally, my stomach growling angrily pulled me off of the couch where I was watching _A Christmas Story_ for the hundredth time. Never one to enjoy grocery shopping, my fridge and pantry were completely bare, and I hadn't eaten today.

The cold and snow hit me as soon as I stepped out of the apartment building, and I tugged my coat tighter around me. For all I was bundled in gloves, a scarf, and a hat, the cold seemed to cut through everything, and the wind insisted on whipping my unruly blond hair against my face. The words I muttered as I trod through the snow would have made Mom reach for a bar of soap and her well worn copy of _How to be a Lady._

When I passed Gabriel's shop, I was surprised to see the lights were on. I'd been so swamped by trying to get my life and work back together that we hadn't seen each other since he'd come with me to Amanda's funeral, but we'd texted back and forth. Still, surely even Gabriel wouldn't work on Christmas Eve. Never one able to resist a mystery, I quickly decided a detour was in order, and trod across the street. The little bell tinkled merrily as I entered. "Gabriel?"

A loud thump and cursing answered my call. Wincing slightly, I made my way to the back in time to see a rather disgruntled watchmaker sliding out from under a sink, holding his head and glaring daggers at a leaking pipe. It took a herculean effort to stifle my laughter at seeing the ever-cool Gabriel looking for all the world like an affronted cat, but it was with a (mostly) straight face that I offered him a hand up.

"What are you doing here," he asked, subtly trying to straighten his clothes and hair. "I haven't seen you since... I thought you'd have flown home by now."

"I wasn't able to go home this year, hence my Christmas Eve trip to the Chinese place on the corner," I said, a little embarrassed.

He frowned, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. "I'm sorry. I know you're close with your family."

"It's the first time I haven't been home for Christmas, but I got to talk to them earlier," I shrugged, preferring not to talk about it. "So what about you? What are you doing at work so late on a holiday?"

"I'm usually here," he said with a glance around the shop. "My mom…died a few years ago, and everyone else is with their families."

"Do you want to spend Christmas with me," I asked before I could stop myself. My cheeks instantly turned red, but I decided to plug on. "I don't really have any food at my place, but we can pick up something suitably artery-clogging and make a night of it."

His brown eyes were warm with pleasant surprise as he smiled down at me. "Yeah. Uh, just give me a moment to clean up."

A few minutes later, he shrugged on a coat and locked up the shop. "So, how have you been," I asked. I hadn't seen him since the day we'd spent together after the bar fiasco.

"I've been good. Just...working." Gabriel had shoved his hands in his pockets, so I laced my arm through his casually, small gloved hand resting on the inside of his elbow. He glanced down, and I could have sworn a smile ghosted across his lips, but it was gone in an instant. "You?"

"You mean when I'm not cursing New York's arctic weather? I've been working. We're having some issues with the project, so we've been stuck designing prototype after prototype." I rubbed my face tiredly. "I've got a teleconference with Dr. Suresh when school starts again."

"Dr. Mohinder Suresh?"

I wasn't surprised he knew who I was talking about; Suresh was a household name now. "Yeah. I've never met him, but he's the expert in Special physiology."

"He's a good man," Gabriel said noncommittally. When my eyebrows rose in question, he elaborated. "I've met him a few times, but we…didn't get along." His tone told me not to pursue the topic, so I let it go, guiding the conversation to lighter topics.

An hour later, I laughed as Gabriel telekinetically juggled the cartons of leftover food. At his request, I would toss small objects into the rotating circle to see if he could "catch" them. "This is the greatest game since strip poker," I teased.

"That depends entirely on who you're playing with," he retorted dryly, eliciting another laugh from me.

"Can you move humans," I asked curiously, tossing a pen into the swirling parade.

He mentally caught the pen with ease, and quirked an eyebrow at me. Impressed that he could keep track of all those things without looking and still hold a conversation, my own eyebrows flew up. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, swirling my eggnog around in my mug thoughtfully. "I'm just wondering what it would feel like. I mean, I'm as normal as they come, so the thought of losing contact with the ground without mechanical help is...well, it sounds fun." He stared at me for a long moment and I self-consciously tugged on a lock of hair. "Don't worry about it. I was just curious. Do you know how to play poker? I've got a deck here somewhere."

Without apparent effort, the floating objects landed safely on the table. Gabriel stood suddenly, and held his hand out to me. "Do you trust me?"

Grinning stupidly, I took his hand and jumped off the couch, making him laugh softly at me. I was a little confused when he led me to the coat rack and started putting on his coat. Arching an eyebrow, I followed suit, putting on my scarf and gloves. When he carefully put my hat on my head for me, I didn't try to stop my smile from softening. Touched that he was looking out for me, I kissed him gently and took his hand again. "So where are we going?"

The answer, it seemed, was the roof of my small apartment building. I shivered as the cold air greeted me with an icy hug. Seeing me shiver, Gabriel pulled me closer to him. "Ready?"

Trusting him but not exactly sure what his plan was, I gave him a questioning smile. "What exactly is your plan here, Superman?"

Gabriel just winked at me and, before I could react, scooped me up into his arms. Flustered, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. I was so caught up in the wonderful feelings of being cradled so effortlessly by a ridiculously handsome man that I didn't realize what was happening until I felt the cold air rushing by us.

"Oh god...we're flying," I breathed, amazed. I almost didn't catch Gabriel's smile, so caught up in trying to take in everything I saw. As the streets and buildings of Brooklyn passed far below us, I started laughing out of simple joy. This freedom, this detachment from the world, was something I'd never felt before, but had always dreamed about. It was exactly as wonderful and terrifying and absolutely perfect as I'd always thought it would be.

Thrilled beyond belief, I couldn't stop smiling. "If I kiss you right now, will we fall to our deaths," I asked Gabriel, semi-serious. Instead of answering, he simply pressed his lips to mine.

I tensed for a moment, but when we didn't fall out of the sky, I started kissing him back passionately.

After a moment, I pulled away, grinning at him. "Would it be in bad taste to make a Titanic joke right now?"

0o0o0o0o0

Consciousness came slowly, but I fought to stay asleep. I was having such a good dream. I had been flying, but there had been no fear, because Gabriel was there, and he could protect me from anything.

Gradually, the dream receded, and I realized someone was stroking my hair, and I smiled, snuggling closer, but didn't open my eyes.

"Good morning." There was a smile in Gabriel's voice.

"This is the perfect way to wake up," I said, stretching languidly. In my sleep, I had somehow draped myself over him, and now I didn't bother to lift my head from his shoulder or open my eyes. "Warm, comfortable, and someone is petting me."

"Maybe you're part feline."

"I'm hoping to be a house cat in my next life. I plan to spend all day lounging in the sun and ignoring people until I want attention, which they will then gladly give."

"Sounds like a typical woman to me."

I laughed and swatted his chest, finally opening my eyes to smile at him. "Careful, Gray. Hell hath no fury and all that."

One dark eyebrow rose in skeptical amusement. "I _literally_ have superpowers. I'll take my chances."

"I have the power of physics on my side," I told the eyebrow sternly. "Checkmate."

Gabriel laughed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "So, what did you have planned for today?"

"Nothing in parti- holy crap, it's Christmas morning!" I shot up and out of bed, but promptly sat back down for a moment. "Wooooah, head rush."

"Easy there, Ralphie," Gabriel said dryly. "You didn't get your Red Ryder BB gun."

I grinned. "Pipe down, Scrooge, or I'll sic the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come on you. I don't care how old I am, Christmas morning will always be awesome."

"You know, as a fully functioning adult, you can just _buy_ the things you want. You don't have to wait for Christmas presents."

I flapped my hand at him. "It's not the presents, although they don't exactly put a damper on my mood. It's just the day. Right now, there are millions of children, some even in this building, who didn't sleep last night because they were too excited for this morning, and today the world is just a little better for it."

He smiled at me. "I didn't realize you were such a romantic."

"I have my moments," I said sheepishly. "Now, I'm going to go put on some coffee and then I'm going to take a shower and go for a walk."

By the time Gabriel and I crawled out of the shower, the water had gone completely cold and we were laughing as we dried each other off. "I think I found a new favorite Christmas tradition," I leered at him. He snorted and swatted at my backside, but I dodged and pranced into the bedroom, laughing.

"So, what are your plans for the day," I called curiously as I ducked into my closet and started getting dressed.

"Well, I usually go to Peter's house in the afternoon. If you don't have other plans, I hoped you would join me."

The casually delivered offer made me freeze. "Peter...as in Peter Petrelli?"

We couldn't see each other through the door, but I could imagine the confused look on Gabriel's face. "Yeeees," he said, dragging the word out in question.

Eyes wide, I slipped the sweater over my head and buttoned my jeans before slipping out of the closet to face him. "You're on a first name, go-over-on-Christmas-Day basis with Peter Hangs-out-with-the-President Petrelli? The quote-unquote 'Shining Light for Mankind'?"

Gabriel looked amused. "I just call him 'Peter'. And occasionally 'dumbass'." I watched him button up his shirt, momentarily distracted by the sight of his broad chest, but his next words made me snap back to the conversation. "I thought you met him before? Something about him touring your lab?"

I snorted. "No. That's way above my pay grade. Amanda gave him the tour, and I met him for about ten seconds when he thanked my team for our work. I'm 90% sure he never even heard our individual names."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal. He's just Peter. He's got a wife that's way out of his league, 6 month old son, and annoyingly floppy bangs. You'll be fine." When I still looked unsure, he shook his head and pulled me into his arms. "Tell you what. If he shows the slightest sign of growing horns or a forked tail, I'll use my powers to throw him out of the window."

0o0o0o0o0

For the fifth time in as many minutes, I straightened my dress and ran a hand along my hair, nervously checking that my curls were still good. Gabriel gently grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine, "Stop fussing, Hero. You look beautiful."

I flushed with pleasure both at the gesture and the words, but my joy was short lived as we reached the door of the Petrelli penthouse and Gabriel rang the doorbell.

A pretty blond woman opened the door and beamed when she saw Gabriel. "Gabriel!" The way she pronounced the word told me instantly that she was deaf.

"Merry Christmas, Emma. This is my girlfriend Hero," Gabriel introduced, simultaneously signing with his hands. For the second time in less than a minute, I flushed with pleasure. He'd introduced me as his girlfriend. "Hero, this is Peter's wife, Emma."

"It's nice to meet you," Emma said with a brilliant smile.

Not for the first time, I thanked my summer as a camp counselor when I'd learned American Sign Language. "The pleasure is mine," I signed to her, speaking aloud as well. "You have a lovely home."

She smiled and gestured for us to come inside, and I caught a flash of surprised approval in Gabriel's eyes as he guided me inside with a hand on the small of my back. "You know sign language?"

I arched an eyebrow, "_You_ know sign language?" He grinned and inclined his head in acknowledgement of my point, and Emma gestured for us to follow her to the living room.

Like the rest of the penthouse, the living room was elegantly vibrant. A massive Christmas tree took up one corner, and upbeat music played from the speakers set up around the room. Peter Petrelli himself was currently seated on the couch, feeding a bottle to the baby in his arms. He looked up and smiled when he saw us. "Merry Christmas. Who's this?"

I smiled politely, making a note to sign for Emma's benefit as I introduced myself. "I'm Hero. Yes, it's my real name, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

Peter seemed to approve of me, if only because I was being polite to his wife. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

I blinked at him, surprised that he'd remembered the tour, before I realized he'd probably seen my face on the news. After the bombing, university staff photos of the four of us involved had been plastered across most of the major networks. "You toured my lab several months ago," I said lightly. "That's probably where you know me from."

"No, I could swear I've seen you somewhere else," he said, frowning. In the corner of my eye, Emma was frantically shaking her head at him and Peter's eyes widened. "But maybe it was just on the street or something," he said hastily.

Now that I knew Emma, at least, recognized me, I had to work a little harder to keep my smile on. When the worst moment of your life made national headlines, it became the first thing people associated with your name and face. Emma quickly recovered, though, and touched my arm to grab my attention. "Will you help me get drinks for everyone," she asked.

As soon as we were away from the men, Emma took her time inspecting me. "How did you meet Gabriel?"

I shrugged. "I went into his clock shop to get something repaired, and he asked me out a few days later."

"He's a good man." It was casually delivered, but I could read the challenge in her words.

I smiled genuinely for the first time since I'd entered the house. "Yes, he is. He's…amazing. I don't feel like I deserve him."

There was a knowing look in Emma's eyes and a small smile graced her face. "I felt the same about Peter when we were dating."

I arched an eyebrow at her. "But not now?"

She gave me a dry look as she poured eggnog and whiskey together in the glasses. "The feeling faded after the first few hundred times he leaves the toilet seat up." Surprised, I started laughing, and she grinned at me. "How long have you and Gabriel known each other?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Only a few weeks, but…" I floundered for words briefly. "Well, we've been through a lot together."

Her eyes were sharp, and I knew she was inferring correctly that he'd been there for me after the bombing. Thankfully, she didn't say anything, just handed me two glasses and gestured for me to follow her back to the men.

The second we entered the room, I knew Gabriel had told Peter exactly who I was, because Peter was staring at me with pity in his eyes. He hastily covered it with a smile, but I just mentally shrugged it off. I was used to it by now. "So, there may or may not be a significant amount of booze in here," I said, winking at Emma as I handed Gabriel a glass. "Hint: there is."

Peter took a sip and choked. "What is this, 90% whiskey?"

"Something like that," Emma agreed, grinning.

I smiled at Gabriel and perched on the arm of the lounge chair he was sitting in. "You know, I'm really becoming a fan of your rapid cellular regeneration thing. You're automatically Designated Driver."

"Let's see if your tune changes after tomorrow's hangover," he said dryly, wrapping an arm around my waist.

I rolled my eyes, but shifted my attention to Emma and Peter. "So, you've both known Gabriel for a long time. Are there any embarrassing stories I get to hear about?"

Emma snorted, and Peter grinned. "Oh, so many. Don't give me that look, Gabriel. It's my duty as your best friend to inform your girlfriend about who she's dating. Let's see. Have you heard about what happened at our wedding?"

Gabriel grimaced, but I shook my head with a smile. Peter grinned mischievously. "Emma's ex boyfriend came by the reception, drunk and crying and giving everyone the creeps. So Gabriel, being the best man, discreetly asks him to leave. The dude starts getting hysterical, so Gabriel finally gets fed up and tosses the guy out in the rain, and thinks that the end of it. Evidently, though, the guy wasn't finished, and returns two hours later, drunker than ever. In his drunken haze, he decided to take off his wet clothes. Now, Emma and I don't know about any of this. We're just off in our own happy little world, but then suddenly the room goes dead silent. I mean, not a peep from anyone."

"Peter and I look up just in time to see a terrified, drunk, naked man streaking through our reception, with Gabriel clocking it after him like a linebacker with this determined look on his face." Emma was laughing so hard at the memory that Peter started cracking up, and I couldn't help but giggle at the mental image.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Gabriel said sarcastically, casting a reproachful look at all of us. "You're not the one who had to chase and tackle a naked man." This only sent the rest of us into further peals of laughter.

* * *

**Thoughts so far?**


	5. Chapter 5

**I forgot to post the last few days, so have three chapters!**

A month later, I was at the end of my rope, and it was all I could do to mentally tie a knot in it and hang on. Specials Project was circling the drain. Most of my staff had quit out of fear, and with every company that pulled funding, the remaining staff lost a little more confidence and the project lost a little more momentum.

The Church of True Humanity was picketing the laboratory I'd managed to procure to continue research. Every morning, my staff and I had to walk through a gauntlet just to reach the front door of the building where we now rented a second-hand lab in the basement. We all strongly suspected that the lab hadn't been upgraded since the 60's, a hypothesis supported by the fact that the entire lab perpetually smelled vaguely like stale marijuana, despite searching floor to ceiling for the source.

Those of us who remained on the project were working for free now, letting the money go instead to the few Special volunteers who hadn't been scared off. We were still paid for our work as University professors, but money was getting tight for all of us. Most of the grad students, though, now had no source of income aside from student loans, and many of the professors were discreetly helping them make ends meet as best we could.

I scribbled something on the whiteboard and looked out over a sea of undergrads. Picking out one likely looking student, I chucked a marker at him, and he caught it with ease, though he looked like a deer in headlights. "Jameson, if I say that this formula won't work for both air and water flows, am I right, or am I full of shit?"

He hesitated before throwing the marker back. "My gut says you're wrong."

I smiled. "That's correct. Your gut knows the physics."

"But the rest of me doesn't."

I winked. "I was going to say it if you didn't. Alright, guys, why is Jameson right? Why does this formula work for both water and air?"

One of the other students caught the marker I tossed. "Because they both behave like liquids?"

"Good! Yes! Remember that!" I caught the marker. "Air and water both behave like liquids. Air is NOT empty space. It's filled with particles and chemicals, just like water. Most of these formulas will work for both. These formulas are your friends. Use them, know them, love them." The door opened in the back, and I was surprised to see Gabriel walking in, but my attention was distracted by another question. "Fox, go for it."

"What about pressure? They can't behave exactly alike in all ways."

"Good point. That's why I gave you formulas. Water and air share similar properties, but they aren't the same. For the most part, you'll just need to plug in different values in the formulas." The look on Gabriel's face was worrying me. "Alright, guys. Do Section 2, Chapter 4 in the online workbook, and have a good weekend."

The students began to file out, and I beckoned Gabriel to come to the desk. He was the most solid, levelheaded man I'd ever known, yet his eyes were full of shadows as he approached. It looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and my stomach sank at the sight. Wordlessly, I took his hand and pulled him down the packed hallway to my office, shutting and locking the door behind us.

He sagged into a chair, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for barging in on you like this. I just…didn't know who else to turn to."

I walked to his back and began rubbing his shoulders. "What happened?"

Gabriel took a deep, shuddering breath. "I was at the shop. A kid came in, and I…recognized her. Her name was Molly Walker. And she said that it had taken years, but that she forgave me, and I just…I just…" He started crying, and the sight of such a strong man brought to his knees shook me to the core.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he was in pain. I walked around the chair and sat down in his lap, wrapping my arms around him and gently stroking his hair. Softly, I crooned reassurances and he laid his head against my chest, clinging to me. "Shhh. You're ok. Everything will be ok. I'm here, I've got you. You aren't alone. Everything will be ok."

Gradually, Gabriel calmed down and released his grip on me, but I kept stroking his hair soothingly. It was something that always made me feel better when I was sad, and if it was the only thing I could do to soothe him, I wasn't going to stop. "Who is Molly Walker?"

He raised his head from my chest, but didn't meet my eyes. "You know...what I did...before Peter saved me. Before I learned to control the hunger."

"Yes." One night he had explained about his innate power of intuitive aptitude and the hunger that came with it, the hunger that had lead him to kill dozens of people in exchange for his power. Though I didn't know details, he had told me about some of the things he had done.

"Molly Walker was nine when I killed her parents. I never killed children," he said earnestly. "Her father was who I came for, and his wife and daughter weren't supposed to be home, but they surprised me, and...I locked Molly in a cupboard under the stairs so she wouldn't see...I killed her parents..."

My heart was sinking, and I had to force myself to remember that he had changed. His actions proved that.

"After...I found out she had the power to locate people, to find anyone in the world just by thinking of them...there was going to be a bomb in New York. I had to stop them, had to find the man who was going to blow up the city...so I went to find her, to ask her, but she started screaming, and I panicked...I ran." He shook his head. "The hurt I've cause her, caused other people, is unforgivable. But...she came into the shop. She said she forgave me, and that she knew I had changed."

I continued running my hands through his hair as I listened. "She forgave me, Hero. After everything I put her through, she forgave me. I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't deserve happiness or you or...any of it."

I sighed, not knowing what to say. "Gabriel, you've changed. All you can do is live the best way you know how; be generous, love fiercely, and help people every chance you get. I love you, Peter loves you, Emma loves you... We know you're worthy of forgiveness. Now you just have to believe it yourself."

He was staring at me. "You love me?"

I flushed, realizing my slip. "Well...yes."

"Even after everything I've just said, after breaking down all over you?" He seemed floored by the idea.

I smiled. "I've broken down all over you, too," I pointed out. "I trust you completely. You have my love, Gabriel, because you've earned it."

He pulled me closer and kissed me gently. "I love you, too."

I smiled at him. "No matter what you think of yourself, Gabriel, you're a good man, and my best friend. Now...I actually have another class in ten minutes. If you don't have anything to do, you could sit in and we could go to dinner after."

He squeezed my thigh playfully. "Ten minutes? There's a lot we could do in ten minutes."

I leered at him, dancing my fingers around his neck. "We really shouldn't."

He leaned in and stopped just before our lips met. "Come on. We could pretend we're hormonal teenagers making out in a janitors closet." I laughed at the image as he kissed me.

In the end, we had to run to make it to the lecture hall on time, and both of us were slightly rumpled.


	6. Chapter 6

"You and me, baby, ain't nothin' but mammals, so lets do it like they do on the discovery channel," I sang, dancing as I chopped vegetables on a cutting board. Hands grabbed my swaying hips and I jumped about a foot in the air.

Gabriel was standing behind me with a massive grin on his face. "Bloodhound Gang? Welcome to 1995."

"You scared the _shit_ out of me," I laughed, carefully setting the knife on the counter and turning to wrap my arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry- I scared YOU? This is MY apartment," he pointed out after I kissed him soundly.

"It's your birthday! I was trying to surprise you, but you're," I glanced at the clock on his kitchen wall, "an hour early. What are you doing home?"

"How did you know it's my birthday," he asked with a pleased smile as I played with the short black hairs at the nape of his neck.

"There's something you should know about me," I said seriously. "I'm a CIA sleeper agent. I hacked into a government satellite and found your FBI file."

"Since you just told me, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not a very good one," he said dryly.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You clearly don't believe me, so maybe I'm a VERY good one."

He stared at me for a heartbeat before rolling his eyes. "Peter told you."

I held a hand over my heart. "I cannot betray my sources."

"What about if I bribe you," he leered, squeezing my rear playfully.

"In that case, the allies are attacking Normandy on June 6," I laughed. "Now, shoo, Mr. Gray. You can't be here for another hour. Go find something to do."

Gabriel actually pouted. "But, Herooooooo," he whined, drawing out my name, "it's my apartment."

I laughed. "I don't care. I'm invoking girlfriend birthday privileges. Birthday boy must yield to his girlfriends wishes so she can work her special girlfriend magic."

He eyes me dubiously. "That doesn't sound like a real thing."

"Can you prove it," I challenged, waving a spoon at him. "Didn't think so. Shoo."

Gabriel gave me one of those unreadable, unblinking stares that had a tendency to make people squirm under its intensity, but I had become accustomed to them. I simply arched a challenging eyebrow in return. Finally, he grimaced at me and stalked out of the apartment. I jumped a little when a phantom hand playfully swatted my rear, a second before I heard the door close behind him.

"It's like giving a five year old superpowers," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I turned back to the food.

45 minutes later, his apartment was decorated, there was tons of food keeping warm in the kitchen, and I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup. Gabriel and I had been spending so much time at each other's apartments that, in addition to the mutual exchange of keys, we both had stashes of clothes and toiletries.

I'd even bought new a new dress and lingerie for the occasion, but some pieces were proving more complicated than others. The garter belt, thigh highs, and thong were pretty self explanatory, but I was having problems trying to lace up the corset by myself.

I was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. "Don't look so smug," I glared at the lace-covered contraption as I threw on a dressing gown. The corset just continued to lie on the bed, looking superior in its ability to thwart me. "I have a PhD in Theoretical Physics. This isn't over."

Emma and Peter were at the door, and they looked surprised to see me half dressed. "We're a little early," Peter said, his tone somewhere between apologetic and bewildered.

I stepped aside to let them in. "I'm having some...technical difficulties. Can I borrow you, Emma?"

The surgeon looked confused, but nodded and followed me to the bedroom. "Ah," she said, grasping the situation the second she saw the corset on the bed, her eyes lit up with understanding.

"Surely two doctors can figure out how to beat this monster," I said, shrugging off my robe. Since Emma was both a female and a surgeon, I wasn't fazed by going topless in front of her, and neither was she.

The contraption didn't stand a chance against a combined IQ of 300, and I finally found myself laced up into the satin lingerie. Quickly, Emma helped me into my dress and heels.

With Peter's help (and a little tactical snooping) I'd managed to invite quite a few of Gabriel's friends. We weren't gone for more than ten minutes, but by the time Emma and I returned to the living room, most of them had arrived. Thankfully, Peter had served as host in my absence; music thumped through the room, and everyone had a drink in their hand.

"So, where is the guest of honor," Peter asked as we joined him.

"He should be here any minute. He surprised me by coming home an hour ago, and I had to shoo him away." Peter had wisely pointed out that jumping out and trying to scare someone supercharged like Gabriel probably wasn't a good idea, so it wasn't really a surprise party.

Seeing his wife eyeing the people already dancing to the upbeat music, Peter made a wise choice. "Emma, dance with me." The pretty doctor beamed radiantly at her husband and let him draw her out to the floor.

I decided that I deserved a victory drink after conquering my battle with the medieval torture device, and poured myself a glass of wine before starting my rounds as hostess.

The problem with having large groups of Specials in one area is that, when a phantom hand slides under your skirt as you're chatting with one of your friends, you don't have an immediate idea who the culprit is. As it was, I nearly had a heart attack, and looked around wildly until I spotted a very amused Gabriel watching me over Peter's shoulder as he pretended to listen to what the other man was saying.

Well, two can play at that game.

I smiled coyly at him, our eyes locked across the crowded room, and arched an eyebrow. He frowned slightly. Casually, I took the olive from my martini and ran the tip of my tongue around it slowly, his eyes glued to my mouth, until every drop of liquor was gone. Finally, I bit the well-pleasured olive in half, watching in amusement as Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise and he choked on his drink. I couldn't suppress a little snicker as I watched Peter start pounding him hard on the back.

As I focused back on what my companions were saying, I silently thanked the sales associate who sold me slutty lingerie, and the trashy romance novels I'd been reading recently.

Gabriel had never been one to let himself be one-upped. It became a sort of secret game; he would unexpectedly fondle me, the area getting more and more risqué as the night progressed, and I would subtly eroticize otherwise casual actions, licking wine from my finger or bending over pointedly to adjust my shoe. After a while, we didn't even have to look up or skip a beat in our conversations, just responding to each other from across the room.

I was slightly tipsy when I made my way back from the kitchen and caught sight of him. Gabriel was sitting down, talking with two of his watchmaker colleagues, and for a moment, I just leaned against the doorway and watched him. He was gorgeous no matter, but when he was dressed in black button down and jeans, as he was now, with his hair just slightly mussed from dancing with Emma and his intelligent dark eyes bright with laughter or sharp with focus, he was breathtaking. That he was also intelligent and well-off, to boot, meant that he could have been dating supermodels. I didn't understand it, but he had chosen me, despite the fifteen pounds I could never seem to lose, my nerdy interests, and my tendency to dance and sing badly while doing housework. He was the greatest and most beautiful man I'd ever met, and he was mine.

Pulling myself from the doorframe, I walked over to him. Gabriel didn't hesitate to pull me gently into his lap, careful of our drinks, and wrap his arms around me, resting one dark hand on my hip. "No, Kendall," he was saying, "You're still stuck in the fallacy that antiquity means quality."

"Hero, would you kindly tell your boyfriend that he's an idiot," Kendall asked in good-natured ribbing.

"Sorry, man," I replied with a smile. "For one thing, I sleep beside him. For another, I have no idea what y'all are talking about, but he's probably right."

Kendall pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gray, when I figure out how an ugly son of a bitch like you managed to get a woman like Hero, I'm going to market it and become a very, very rich man. And then I'm going to spend that money on a gigantic billboard outside your window that says 'KENDALL IS RIGHT' in big red letters."

"When that day comes, I'll buy curtains," Gabriel retorted dryly.

"Do you want to dance with me," I interjected before Kendall could deliver a scathing comeback.

"Of course."

I quickly climbed off of his lap and tugged Gabriel to the dance floor. I swatted his arm gently when that sneaky phantom hand began creeping up the inside of my thigh. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to take you into the bedroom right now and have my wicked way with you, and I think it might scar Kendall for life," I warned when he just grinned.

He spun me around so that he was pressed against my back, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "We could just end the party a little early, and you could have your wicked way with me in private." His breath was warm on my neck, and though his corporeal hands were on my waist, that damned phantom hand hadn't stopped moving. I flushed red when it slipped beneath my underwear and started moving through my folds, and hoped desperately that people would blame my feverish panting on our dancing.

"That's an idea," I squeaked, eyes wide. He spun me again so that I was against his chest, and I inhaled sharply when a phantom finger slipped inside me.

"Something wrong," he asked wickedly, dark eyes hot with fire and mischief. Beyond words as the finger began to move, I just let my forehead rest against his chest and focused on breathing. "You know," he whispered in my ear, "we could momentarily retreat to the bathroom."

The finger had begun to grow as it moved, and I could feel the pressure as it repeatedly strokes my g spot, and another finger began stroking my bud. Not daring to speak for fear of screaming, I just nodded and let him guide me through the party to our secluded, private bathroom.

The door closed quietly by itself as soon as we were inside, which was just as good, because I promptly pulled Gabriel's head to mine and started kissing him senseless. The hand between my legs disappeared momentarily. "We have to be very quiet," he growled, pressing me against the bathroom sink.

I hissed when he spun me suddenly and telekinetically yanked my dress off, revealing my corset and lingerie. At the sight, Gabriel let out a quiet moan. "Jesus, woman, you're going to be the death of me."

He slipped a finger beneath the lace thong, generously feeling me up before slipping them aside. "I can't wait," he breathed in my ear, asking permission. In response, I bucked back into his hand helplessly.

In an act that undoubtedly required the use of his powers, Gabriel undid his pants and slipped them down around his thighs a d entered me in one swift move. I arched my back and squealed helplessly in pleasure as he stretched me, filling me up completely. Gabriel pulled back until he was almost out, and then thrust back in, bottoming out against my cervix in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

As he pounded into me, the pressure from being so full and the friction drove me wild. The sounds of slapping flesh filled the room, but were drowned out by the music from the party. He thrust into me over and over, and I quivered in need built from hours of building anticipation. Clearly, he was reading my mind, because a phantom hand gently pinched my clot at exactly the right second. I shattered completely, my core clenching hard around him and making him curse colorfully right before he came. I could feel him spasm deep inside me, spasming as he flooded my womb with his seed.

For a few moments, both of us stood there, locked together, both panting and shaking slightly from the intensity of our mutual release. Finally, reality returned, and Gabriel pressed a kiss to my shoulder before pulling out of me.

Dazed and deeply sated, it took a Herculean force of will to clean myself off. Even when I was clean, I had to lean back against the sink for a moment before even thinking about putting on my dress. Gabriel watched me with distinctly masculine satisfaction and pride at a job well done. "I like the corset," he said, running a hand up to my waist and pulling me against his chest before kissing me thoroughly.

I smiled when he pulled back just enough to press a miss to my nose. "I like the telekinetic long-distance fondling," I teased as my dress floated into my hand.

He snorted as we made ourselves presentable. "You named it?"

"Of course I did. I'm a scientist. I classify everything."

He laughed and kissed me again, this time with quiet affection. "You are so weird."

I held a hand to my ear like a phone. "Oh, Pot, it's for you," I said with mock surprise. "It's Kettle. He says you're a telekinetic, shape shifting watchmaker that avoids a long commute by flying to work."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and opened the door to rejoin the party. "Somehow, I feel like we both just proved our points."


	7. Chapter 7

_It was the strangest dream. Even deeply asleep, my brain registered that it was odd, but it was intriguing. _

_I was watching Gabriel float objects around as he went through his morning routine; his damp towel drifted to a hook as he stepped out of the bathroom, and his head cocked to the side as he listened to the news, shuddering slightly as some politician denied cheating on his wife. "He's lying," Gabriel commented distractedly as he buttoned his shirt. "It was the intern. It's always the intern."_

_It was utterly normal, something I'd seen him do so often that it had imprinted in my mind. But this time was different, because as he moved, I could see how everything was working in his brain. Calculations and formulas I was literally seeing in my sleep seemed to float in the air around him. There was practically a giant red arrow pointing at his head, saying "the answer is here!"_

_But it didn't make sense. Every time Gabriel switched powers, so did his brain's manner of interacting with his environment. It was innate to him, something he didn't have to think about, but it was actually an incredibly complex orchestra that allowed him to turn the TV off from across the room. His brain was affecting Suresh particles in its own chemical composition that were then mirrored by select particles in the air around the TV. _

_As I watched, Gabriel stopped using his abilities. He didn't miss a beat, just casually began going about his morning the way any Normal would. The only difference was that a small part of his brain, a part so subtle yet so incredibly powerful, went suddenly dormant. _

I sat up in bed so abruptly that I accidentally threw myself over the side and to the floor. It felt disconcertingly like my brain had just face-palmed. "Hero? What's wrong," Gabriel asked groggily, peering over the side of the bed at me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said excitedly. I kissed him fiercely. "I've figured it out. You showed me."

"I what," Gabriel asked blearily.

"Right. It was actually my own brain, not yours. Normals are always dormant in that part of the brain," I explained hurriedly, already in the closet and throwing on clothes.

"Huh?" His brain was clearly not awake enough to process what I was saying, but that was fine.

I kissed him briefly. "I'm having a life-changing, career-altering epiphany. Go back to sleep, honey." He was already unconscious as I yanked my phone roughly from its charger and hurried out of the room.

Moving as fast as I could, I shoved shoes on my feet and snatched my jacket off the coat hanger, heading to the door. At the last second, I remembered I would need my purse and frantically searched for it as I started scrolling through my contacts on my phone. I found it on the entry table and was out the door a heartbeat later. I pressed Call on my phone as I ran down the stairs of the apartment building.

"It's 6:30 in the morning, Hero," my favorite graduate assistant answered crankily. "You'd better be bleeding in a ditch somewhere."

"Steven, meet me at the lab. I just cracked the project." I hung up, knowing better than to give him a chance to object.

I hailed the first cab I saw and was at the lab within 15 minutes. Sheer dumb luck seemed to be on my side, because a night custodian was cleaning the lobby when I made it to the bolted glass doors. Not knowing what else to do, I pressed my university ID against the glass, showing him that I was authorized to be there.

Five minutes later, I was booting up a computer and rapidly typing the notes and ideas emerging in my mind, my fingers flying over the keys in my haste to not forget anything.

Steven meandered in ten minutes later, looking like he could fall asleep on the floor. "I see neither a ditch nor blood."

"What if, instead of blocking the manipulation of outside particles, we blocked the particles in their own physiology?"

His eyebrows lifted, and he took a seat beside me. "It never occurred to me to shut down their ability at the source. But wouldn't that run the risk of permanently disabling someone's ability?"

"Not if it is an ongoing field," I pointed out. "It could work like a pacemaker."

"But then, we're still back at the same problem. Everyone interacts with the particle differently."

I shook my head excitedly. "No, the way we interact with _external_ particles varies, but the way human brains control their own particles is universally the same. Like how the brain processes any other kind of information," I explained. "Which neurons fire and the pathways taken are unique to each individual, but it's always _neurons_ that fire."

Steven was beginning to get on board, and stood up to pace restlessly. "Ok, so how can we focus the field on that part of the brain without interfering with other neurological activity?"

"The section that controls abilities is isolated," I said eagerly. "If we can alter the field to the frequency of those brainwaves, we block them."

Steven was leaning over my shoulder to read the calculations. "We would have to change the design. The field we have now is too broad."

That one was a stumper, and I was silent for a moment as I thought. "Sound can affect the brain. What if you changed it from a field to a tone?"

He grinned triumphantly. "The waves would theoretically neutralize those in that section of the brain. The frequency is unique to the individual, but we can easily tailor each device to its owner. Hero, this is perfect!"

0o0o0o0o0

Three weeks later, I stood shakily, my eyes glued to the middle-aged brunette across from me. "I thought you were calling us in here to congratulate me."

Across the desk from me, Dr. Stanton sighed. "I'm sorry, Hero, but this has gone on far enough. The bad press is bad for the department, you don't have a prototype, and you're draining money from the university. What am I supposed to do?"

"Angela, you can't shut us down. We've figured it out! We _do _have a prototype designed, all that's left is to build it. We're further with this than we've ever been before. _THIS_ is the answer."

Her eyes flashed at me. "I can shut you down, and I am. In order to do this project, your team – my _staff _– has been working unpaid overtime upwards of 40 hrs a week on top of their normal schedules. They're exhausted, mentally and physically, and their work in other areas will begin slipping."

"But we're at the _finish line_," I hissed. "We're going to _save lives_!"

"NO! No, Dr. Ramsey. I'm going to save lives," she snapped, throwing a folder on the table in front of me. When I didn't move, she gestured for me to take a look. "Someone knows what you're doing. Ever since your project has picked up momentum, the department has been receiving death and bomb threats. So far, the police don't view them as credible, but this has gone far enough. For God's sake, CTH is camped on your doorstep! What if something happens and we didn't do something?"

Sick at heart, I threw the folder on the table and met Angela's eyes. "Fine. Shut us down. But I'm going to finish this project, even if I have to do it alone. It's too important."

"Hero, go away for a while," she said, sounding resigned. "Take a vacation. Go somewhere warm. Just…take a breath."

I stormed out of the office and down the hall, my mind whirling as it tried to figure out how I was going to do this. Friends and colleagues watched me pass, but seemed to know by the look on my face that they shouldn't bother me.

I made it to the outside of the building and I didn't know where to go or what to do. How did I start all over?

Something inside me snapped at the thought, I just took off running down the streets of New York, no destination in mind.

When it started pouring down icy rain, I slowed to a walk, realizing that I hadn't even brought a jacket with me. Tugging my thin white lab coat closer around me, I kept striding down the street, miserable.

How had I come so close, so damn close, only to have everything fall apart at the last minute? Our engineer had designed the prototypes, and we had sent the schematics off to be made. It would have worked. It would have been perfect.

I'd managed to pull everything back together by sheer determination and elbow grease. It had been an impossible task, but I'd done it. I'd gotten the funding, the team, the volunteers, the lab space. All those sleepless nights, all the stress, and all the fear…it was for nothing. After all that work, it was all gone a heartbeat before we crossed the finish line.

It was just too much for one person to take. How could one person handle all of this?

And who the hell would send death threats? How could someone hate me so much that they wanted to kill me? How could a stranger want me dead? Had Amanda received them when she was point-man? Did she read a letter like those before the bombing? Had she known? Had she been afraid?

The thought of my friend and mentor sent another bolt of pain through my heart, and I desperately wished I could talk to her. Unbidden, the image of her charred body burning in the fire came to mind.

Though I hadn't been paying attention to where I'd been going, I was strangely unsurprised to find myself standing in front of Gray and Sons. It seemed my body knew what I needed more than I did. The shop was lit up against the darkening night, and when I opened the door, it felt like walking into a safe haven. The air inside was warm, but I was frozen to the bone.

Gabriel looked up from his desk and stood up in alarm when he saw me standing there, shivering and dripping all over his floor. "Hero? Are you alright," he asked, quickly striding over to me, one hand waving a towel over from the back room. His hands were warm as they cupped my jaw, gently turning my head to check me over for injuries. "You're freezing. Did you walk here from the university in that downpour?" I nodded shakily, my teeth chattering too hard to speak. "Jesus. I've got a change of clothes in the back. Let's get you warmed up."

He led me to the back room and began to strip me of my sodden clothes. My cashmere sweater followed the white lab coat to the floor, and I stepped out of my pants. He rubbed warm hands against my icy arms to increase circulation. Gabriel didn't ask any questions, just handed me dry clothes and went to make coffee, leaving me alone to change.

Finally, I emerged from the bathroom. The clothes were several sizes too big for me and swallowed me, but they were dry and warm. Gabriel had closed the shop for the night, and the smell of brewing coffee drifted through the room, summoning me to where he had a small office in the back. He was sitting at a desk waiting for me, two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

"What happened, Hero," he asked, pulling me onto his lap and wrapping his arms around me.

"Everything has fallen apart," I said, laying my head on his shoulder. "The university has officially cut the program, and not just the funding. They've been receiving death threats against me and the entire team…they've completely scrapped the project."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

There was a long silence. "I just…I'm so tired," I whispered. "I give up. I can't do this anymore, Gabriel. It's too hard."

His arms tightened around me and he pressed a kiss to my hair before resting his cheek against my forehead. We lapsed into silence, but the feeling of being warm and dry and cared for was enough for me.

"Come away with me."

The words startled me, and I realized I had started to doze in his arms. "Where?"

"Does it matter," he asked. "We could go anywhere. Japan, Australia, France…anywhere."

I snorted. "All my money went to the project. I'm barely covering rent and food."

He was silent for a moment. "So move in with me."

I could feel the tension in his arms as he suggested it, afraid that I would reject him. I'd never lived with a man before, and it seemed a little soon, since we'd only known each other for a few months. It would indelibly change our relationship. Still, I couldn't deny that the idea had merit, and the thought was appealing.

"Before I say yes, you should probably know that I don't clean well," I said hesitantly.

He was so startled that he started laughing, and he gently turned my face up to kiss me. "I clean well enough for the both of us." Smiling, he kissed me again, and watched me for a moment. "You'll do it?"

I nodded with the first real smile that I'd felt in hours. "We'll consider it an adventure."

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	8. Chapter 8

Amelia Aringheri was 5 years old, and was always having nightmares. No matter what her parents did, they couldn't comfort her, because they didn't believe her. They told her it was her imagination, just bad dreams, but she knew differently.

Every night, little Amelia would succumb to sheer exhaustion, and would fall asleep. But her mind didn't dream as others' did. When Amelia went to sleep, her mind would show her terrible things, visions of violence and pain and monsters with human bodies but evil eyes. Amelia would wake up screaming and crying, because even though her five year old mind didn't understand the images, she knew they were bad.

One night, Amelia slept over at her grandma and grandpa's house. Amelia liked her grandpa; he would slip her candy when her parents weren't watching and said that it was their little secret. Grandma even made sure to keep Amelia's favorite ice cream for when she came over.

That night, Amelia woke up from her nightmare and ran crying to her grandpa, who pulled her onto his lap and asked what was wrong. He listened quietly as she told him about the loud bang she'd heard in the dream, and about woman named Hero running into the fire because someone had hurt her friends.

When she was through, her grandpa wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, and told her that it was ok to be scared, because he saw those things too when he slept. He told her that they were special people with special abilities, but not to worry, because Grandpa was going to fix it, and that soon, she would never have to see those things again.

When Amelia fell asleep in her grandpa's arms, he tucked her back into bed, and went to make the call that be hoped really would make everything better.

Grandpa always got what he wanted, because Grandpa answered to another name: Charles Aringheri, CEO of Pegasus Enterprises, and arguably one of the wealthiest men in the world. And he had just promised Doctor Hero Ramsey a blank check to make his granddaughter's nightmares go away.

0o0o0o0o0

Gabriel came with me several weeks later when I toured new, state-of-the-art lab granted to me by Pegasus Enterprises. It was a relatively small section in a much larger facility used by the company, but it was much grander than anything I or my team had worked in.

Most of us had to quit our jobs to come work here, as the University refused to have anything to do with the flight risk our project had proven to be. Angela had accepted our resignation with grace and had given her blessing, assuring us that our jobs would be waiting for us when we decided to return.

"This is amazing," I breathed, craning my neck to see everything. It was glass and steel, but had advanced security and network systems, and a cappuccino maker that I was trying very hard not to drool over.

Steven, who had remained my intern, was just as awed as I was, but Gabriel just harrumphed. "I could snap through this so-called security in minutes."

I rolled my eyes but laced my arm through his. "Hush, you. With this grant, I've been able to hire a bigger team and get better supplies."

"He's just jealous that our tree house is bigger than his," Steven snorted. "A_ lot_ bigger."

I frowned, glancing between them. "Is this some sort of weird penis-envy thing?"

Gabriel shot me a look. "Yes," he said drolly. "I'm terribly threatened that a man who can't even legally drink yet might one up me."

"Hey, man. I'll turn 21 in a year, but mini-Gabriel isn't going to get bigger."

"You know, I have several abilities I haven't used in a while," Gabriel said innocently. "I wonder if I should try them out, just to make sure they still work."

Steven laughed, but looked at me in panic when Gabriel just arched an eyebrow at him. "He can't really do that, can he?"

"It's like babysitting, only I'm not getting paid," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Dr. Ramsey!" I turned to see a little girl with startlingly lovely black eyes running towards me. She was covered in cloth from head to toe; even her tiny hands were covered in thin gloves.

"Marcella!" I knelt down as she ran into my arms and hugged me, careful to avoid contact with bare skin. "How are you, sweetheart? I haven't seen you in so long."

"I got a Spongebob game for Christmas," she said with the glee of 8 year olds. "You'll play it with me, right?"

"Of course, I will," I reassured her with a grin. "But where are your momma and Miss Sarah?"

"Momma is coming, and Miss Sarah said she had to do paperwork." Even as she spoke, her mother rounded the corner and smiled at me in relief. I stood and waved.

"Dr. Ramsey, it is so good to see you again. I was worried when I heard about the bombing." She hugged me fiercely. "You were not injured, I hope."

"No, I was fine, Graciella," I said tightly, not wanting to remember. "But you look lovely, and Marcella seems very well." I grinned at the little girl, and she grinned back. "Are you here for a tour?"

Marcella nodded enthusiastically, making both me and her mother laugh. "Sarah said we should come in and get acquainted with the new place," Graciella answered. "But who is with you?"

I flushed bright red. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. My manners have completely escaped me. Graciella, this is my boyfriend Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Graciella, and Marcella. Marcella is helping me on my trial. And you already know Steven."

"Hola, Marcella. Cuantos anos?" That Gabriel miraculously spoke fluent Spanish shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. But then, come to think of it, he'd mentioned that he had spent time in Mexico once.

Marcella hid her face behind her hair and peered at him shyly. "Ocho."

"Eight is my favorite number," he exclaimed with a smile, switching to English. "It's the best one."

"Graciella!" Sarah, the graduate assistant assigned to Marcella, came bounding around the corner. She had been working with me on the project since the beginning, and had been one of the few who hadn't needed prodding to return. "I finally finished your security clearance, so there shouldn't be any further issues."

"Sorry about all the new security," I said. "But this is important work, and we would rather be safe than sorry."

Graciella frowned at me. "Do not apologize, querida," she chastised gently. "You have been through great deal, and I feel better knowing Marcella has protection from those monsters."

I smiled at her. "I do, too. Now, come on. You can see the rest of the lab."

"How are you progressing with the device," Graciella asked as we walked.

"That's actually why you're here today," I said with a smile. "The devices have passed the final round of testing with flying colors, so we're here to customize Marcella's device to her brain pattern. If all goes well, she'll have her own within a week or so."

"So quickly," Graciella asked uneasily.

Sarah hastened to reassure her. "Since this is for use on humans, the FDA had us subject the devices to every test imaginable. They're perfectly safe. Worst case scenario is that Marcella will simply retain her ability until we fix the hypothetical problem."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Wow, I'm absolute crap at remembering to update this, so have three chapters free.**

Three weeks later, I was standing in our apartment. Since I lived closer to his shop than he did, we'd decided on keeping my apartment. Now, my formerly super feminine apartment was now filled to the rafters with the accumulated junk two adults acquired over years of self-reliance. It was strange seeing a rather impressive collection of razors sitting beside my own collection of makeup and hair supplies.

"Hero, come on. We're going to be late."

"I'm coming," I called back, adjusting my gown in the mirror. Peter was hosting a gala tonight to celebrate Congress passing a bill protecting Specials from having their powers forcibly removed. I'd gone shopping with Emma and had instantly fallen in love with the floor length lace gown, and it hadn't taken much prompting from my companion to buy it.

I walked out to see Gabriel looking very dashing in a tux. "Ready?"

He nodded. "You look lovely.

I smiled at him and kissed his cheek as he held open the door for me. "You're looking quite dapper yourself. Black has always been a good color for you, but with the suit..." I got an exaggerated case of elevator eyes as I shamelessly ogled him. "I may have to fight off other women tonight."

He raised an eyebrow, telekinetically locking the apartment behind us as he guided me down the hall by a hand on the small of my back. "I'm enjoying that mental image."

I laughed and swatted his stomach lightly with my clutch, making him smirk down at me. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Gray."

He held the cab door open for me, giving me a chance to scoot over and give directions to the driver as Gabriel joined me.

Fifteen minutes later, we checked through security and entered the hotel's ballroom. Whoever had decorated the event had done well; it was elegant and gorgeous, without being over the top. Theoretically, the president was supposed to be in attendance, and the only reason Gabriel and I were there was because Peter had personally requested we be put on the guest list.

"Gabriel, Hero." We turned to see Emma approaching us, a glass of wine in her hand and beaming radiantly in a golden mermaid gown. She and I exchanged kisses before Gabriel pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm so glad you could make it."

I tucked my clutch under my arm so that I could sign. "We wouldn't miss this. It's a big night for Peter. I know he worked hard to get that bill passed."

She smiled. "He's over the moon. I have to go be hostess now, but I wanted to make sure Gabriel saved a dance for me later."

Gabriel grinned. "I'll fight Peter for it if I have to."

She laughed. "I don't think that will be necessary." She bid us goodbye and headed off to take care of hostess duties.

Over the next several hours, we danced, ate, drank, and talked with various politicians and influential socialites. Gabriel and I would repeatedly be separated as we were pulled into different conversations or to different dance partners, but one of us would invariably find the other every once in a while for a dance. It wasn't until almost midnight that the night took a sour turn.

I thanked the bartender as he handed me a glass of wine. "So we meet again."

I turned and the warm smile froze on my face when I saw who was standing behind me. Still, there was no need to be rude, so I offered him my hand. "Dr. Goswami, right? You were at the bar with my students."

Instead of shaking my hand like I'd intended, he kissed my knuckles. "I'm pleased you remembered. You look stunning."

"Thank you." I glanced around. "Are you here with anyone?"

"Alas, no." He smiled at me. "But perhaps you would honor me with a dance?"

I floundered for a polite excuse, but none were forthcoming. "It would be my pleasure," I said with a smile instead, telling myself that five minutes with this man wasn't the end of the world.

He led me to the dance floor with a hand on the small of my back, and I couldn't help but think that his hand wasn't as reassuring as Gabriel's. "I heard that you are successfully back on track with your project," he said as I put my hands on his shoulders.

"You certainly seem to know a great deal about me," I replied awkwardly.

"Do not be alarmed, Doctor," he reassured me. "I am interested, and with the bill passed, your name has come up more and more frequently."

"All praise, I hope."

He smiled. "Word has it that you have a very altruistic benefactor: state of the art equipment and an impressive security system."

"I've been lucky." Where was he going with this?

"Indeed. How is the second round of testing coming?"

My polite smile tightened. The second round, when the subjects wore the devices at home and work, had only begun the day before. It was classified information. "Who exactly have you been speaking with?"

He shook his head. "A gentleman never reveals his sources."

I frowned. "Given that this is classified information, I think you should make an exception."

His eyes were glinted. "It's just simple word of mouth. Mere speculation. Paranoid is an unflattering look on you, Doctor."

Chided, I instantly flushed with embarrassment and dropped my gaze. Of course there would be talk; it was a high profile project now and my staff had probably just boasted about their work. I was being rude to a perfectly kind man without cause. "I apologize for overreacting. I've just worked very hard on this project, and I suppose I'm becoming a little overprotective."

His smile softened. "You have every right to be cautious, especially after the bombing. But it seems everything has been going well since."

"It has," I allowed. "The prototype we've devised has been successful with 98% of our subjects. As I'm sure you know, a 98% success rate is practically unheard of."

His smile didn't waver, but neither did it reach his eyes. "It sounds like you're progressing much faster than anyone could have anticipated."

I smiled brightly. "My team all work incredibly hard and are as devoted to this project as I am."

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Gabriel, who was looking at Dr. Goswami like a guard dog distrustfully eyeing the mailman. "Dr. Goswami. I didn't expect to see you here," Gabriel said, his tone toeing the line of displeasure. His eyes flickered with surprise as he stared down the smaller man.

Dr. Goswami smiled tightly and stood. "Unfortunately, I must be going. Dr. Ramsey, it was a pleasure to speak with you. I look forward to seeing you again soon." He left so abruptly that I didn't get the chance to ask what he meant by seeing me soon.

"Well, that was weird," I commented with a frown as I watched the Indian man leave.

Gabriel's brown eyes were grim and unsettled. "He's up to something, that much I'm sure of. And he still won't let me touch him, which probably means he knows about my clairsentience." I stared at him blankly and he elaborated. "If I touch him, I see his history, which means I would also see whatever nefarious plots he's cooking up. "

"'Nefarious plots'," I repeated in amusement. "You've been watching too many Hitchcock movies."

I could see him bristle indignantly. "He's the master of psychological horror."

My phone started ringing, and I regarded him in amusement as I pulled it from my evening bag. "Easy there, Mr. Righteous Indignation," I said dryly before answering the call. "Hero Ramsey."

"Dr. Ramsey, one of the trial subjects arrived about an hour ago complaining of a headache, and started seizing." The words were heavily accented and almost too fast to understand; Sarah was panicking.

I instantly stood and grabbed my bag, heading for the exit. "Did you already take off her device and call 911?" Sarah shakily answered the affirmative. "Who is it? I'll meet them at the hospital."

"It's Marcella."

I sucked in a breath sharply, but forced my emotions back. Panic was for later, when the situation was handled. "Call everyone with a device and tell them to take it off immediately. And wake up Steven, you'll need his help. Until we prove that the device didn't cause the seizure, I don't want anyone wearing them."

"Yes, ma'am."

I hung up the phone and shoved it into my purse as I burst out onto the sidewalk, my hand out to hail a cab. Gabriel was hot on my heels. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Marcella, the little Hispanic girl?" I slid into the cab and gave the hospital name to the driver. "She started seizing. We're meeting her at the hospital."

He rubbed my back as I rested my forehead on the drivers seat. "Breathe, Hero. You didn't do this. Something else must have caused this."

I groaned into the seat before sitting back, burying my face in my hands as I tilted my head back in mental agony. "We don't know that. And what if she dies, Gabriel? I can't be responsible for... She's 8. She's only 8 years old and I promised to help her."

I couldn't see his face with my own buried in my hands, but I could hear the frown in his voice. "It's unlikely that your device caused this. She's been wearing it for two weeks in your facility, with no side effects. All your subjects have. What are the odds that the side effects start the same day the trial goes into the real world?"

I opened my eyes, realizing he had a point. "Unlikely, but not impossible," I countered, but my mind had latched onto the idea, running through the possibilities. "It could have malfunctioned," I mused, staring distractedly at Gabriel. "Though I don't see how. The case is waterproof, and we designed it to sound an alarm and then shut off if it malfunctioned."

Gabriel kept silent, letting me think as we made our way through the city, until at last we arrived at the hospital Marcella would have been taken to. He paid the cabby as I climbed out, and together we entered the Emergency Room. It didn't take long to find Marcella's parents, and Gabriel kindly waited outside the room after I put a stilling hand on his chest, understanding that I needed to do this alone.

Gabriella was wrapped in her husband's arms, but looked up when I entered the pediatric hospital room Marcella had been given, her brown eyes narrowing furiously. She threw the necklace and I caught it reflexively, not taking my gaze off her. "You said you would help her," she snarled, her eyes red and puffy from tears. "You said that it was safe.'Worst case scenario, she keeps her power', you said. I trusted you! Now she's in the _hospital_!"

All my resolve, all my determined logic, my desire to find the answer, all of it vanished in the face of this mother's heartbreak and fury. She had entrusted her child's safety, future, and well-being to me, and I'd let her down completely. So I stood there and let her yell at me, both because I deserved it and because it would make her feel better.

"How could you do this," she wailed, fresh tears making her cheeks glisten. "Why didn't you test it more? My daughter might die because of you. Because you wanted to make a name for yourself? Well, you have! Murderer! Power-hungry! _Monster_!" She dissolved into tears as I watched, and her husband glared at me.

"She was fine," Jorge growled. "Her power was gone and I could hug my daughter for the first time in years. Why did you have to mess with the device when it was working perfectly before?"

Even in the midst of my overwhelming shame, some part of my brain caught what he had said. "What do you mean? I haven't touched the device since we gave it to her two weeks ago."

There was disgusted hate in Jorge's eyes. "Don't play stupid, Doctor. You're not escaping responsibility that easy. That tech came to our home and told us he needed to fix Marcella's necklace, and like fools we let him. This is your fault."

There was a knot of dread twisting in my stomach. "No one from this project was authorized to go to your home or touch the device, Mr. Mendez. Only the FDA and I have access to your personal information, like your address." Grimly, I glanced down at the device in my hand, and my fist closed over it tightly. I looked back up at Marcella's parents to see them watching me. "I am going to find out what's going on here, and you'll be the first to know when I do."

"Yes, you do that, Dr. Ramsey," Jorge said coldly. "We'll be contacting our lawyers."

I met his eyes for a moment, but there was nothing else to be said. After all, what do you say to parents who think you almost killed your child? So I left and strode down the hall with my back straight and my chin high, feeling Gabriel fall into step with me. "Are you alright?"

I slipped my hand into his, lacing our fingers together as his enormous palm engulfed mine - it was the only weakness I could allow myself right now. "I think we have a security issue on our hands, Gabriel," I murmured, glancing at him as we walked.

Those sharp, intelligent eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose tiredly as we stepped into the elevator. "They said someone came to their house today claiming to work for me, and tampered with Marcella's device." I held it up, the small, inch wide circle glittering with the colorful stickers that I had helped Marcella put on it the day I had given it to her. It had been the first time I'd ever had skin to skin contact with the little girl. My heart clenched at the thought that someone had deliberately done this to her. "No one on my team knows their address, and more importantly, no one on my team would ever do this."

Gabriel nodded grimly as he held open the elevator door until I had exited. "We'll go back to your lab and take it apart." He cut me off when I started to protest. "No, Hero. You need me for this. I'll know how the device works the moment I see it open, and as soon as I touch it, I'll know its history and who has touched it before."

Though it was against several rules, I was relieved enough to smile at him. He was a genius in his own right; having his help would streamline the process exponentially. "Thank you," I said sincerely.

It wasn't until we were in a can headed for the lab that Gabriel asked for the device, and I handed it to him without hesitation. As soon as his hand closed over the necklace, his brown eyes became unfocused and flickered side to side, as if he were watching a slideshow. After a moment, he frowned and his eyes stilled.

"Male, about 5'11, blond hair, green eyes, medium build," Gabriel said distractedly, his eyes focused on something only he could see. "There's a white scar just above his left eyebrow, and his nose looks like it's been broken at least once." He blinked and his eyes became focused again. He handed me the device. "I didn't recognize him, though."

I shook my head. "No, it helps. I can pass out a description to my team and see if it rings any bells."

The lab was dark on the outside, but I recognized the few cars in the parking lot. It seemed my team of Avengers had assembled. Gabriel followed me to the door as I punched in the code, and we quickly made our way through the halls to the lab, where we found all 15 scientists gathered in the computer room working in groups. Some were on phones ostensibly calling the volunteers, others were bouncing ideas across a desk covered with schematics, and a third was scribbling a list of possible malfunctions on an enormous whiteboard. Everyone was arguing and no one was listening to anyone else, with the end result that the noise was deafening.

I didn't waste time; kicking off my heels, I hiked up my gown and carefully stepped onto one of the conference tables, mentally thanking my brother for teaching me how to get attention. The long, ear piercing whistle I let out made several people cover their ears, and silence fell almost instantly. I kept my tone calm but authoritative; right now, I was their boss, not their friend.

"We are scientists; emotions have no place in this room. If you can't put aside your feelings, then leave now and come back tomorrow without fear of repercussion." Not a soul moved as I scanned the room. "I spoke with Mr. And Mrs. Mendez, and they said someone came to their home claiming to be a member of this team, and tampered with Marcella's device. That means there's a security breach somewhere, and I want it found _tonight_. I have a description of the man, which Steven will pass around soon. If you know him, come see me privately. Tips will remain anonymous." Unsettled murmurs ghosted through the room, but I continued. "Those on the phones will continue calling the volunteers; I don't want anyone wearing this device tonight. No exceptions. Also, make it clear to them that no member of this team will be visiting their homes or tampering with their devices, and that they should immediately call the police if someone tries. Where are my engineers?" Five hands shot up. "You're with Gabriel. This is Marcella's necklace. We are going to take apart this device and figure out exactly what is wrong with it and how it's been tampered with. Research assistants?" More hands shot up. "Someone needs to file a report with the police, and this building's security should be notified that there's been a breach. I also want an email to the volunteers drafted in the next hour for my approval. It's your job to find where the leak might be; find out who everyone's been talking to and make me a list." My gaze scanned the crowd listening intently to me. "I know it's Saturday night and you had other plans, but someone is trying to kill people with the device we created. This is personal. Lets get to work, people."

Instantly, the groups broke up to fulfill their tasks, and Gabriel helped me off the table. "What are you going to do?"

I scrubbed my face tiredly. "I have to direct people. Will you be alright alone?"

He arched an eyebrow and rubbed my arm reassuringly. "I can handle a few engineers, Hero. Get some coffee. You'll feel better."

I smiled at him in gratitude. "Thank you for staying."

What followed was the longest night of my life. It seemed the saboteur had made several other house calls, and the volunteers were frightened and panicky. As lead on the project, I had made a point to personally meet with every one of them, and now I was who they called with angry questions, demanding answers I didn't have.

In between calming alarmed volunteers and calling the hospital to check on Marcella, I was managing a team of scientists who had never had to deal with a crisis like this. No sooner would I sit down for a break than someone would find me or my phone would ring, until finally I gave up and padded around the lab barefoot in an evening gown, juggling my phone, coffee, and pens. The police came and questioned me and the staff, which lead to more chaos as most of my team of sheltered academics had never spoken to an officer before.

As the sun began to rise through the tinted windows of the lab, progress came more quickly. A report and description of the saboteur confirmed by several of the volunteers was filed. The volunteers were updated via email, and those whose devices had been tampered with willingly stopped by and returned their devices, which the police quickly took prints from. Marcella was healthy and stable, but being kept 24 hours for monitoring.

My engineers confirmed that the devices had all been altered in the same way: the tone had been modified in each one, changing the harmless sound waves into ones that malignantly affected the patients' brain. The new tone wasn't tailored to the individual like the project's had been; whoever had tampered with it had done so with just enough knowledge of Special physiology that they did damage with just one uniform sound. The corrupted waves forced the Paracortex - the area of the brain responsible for abilities - to continuously fire in such a way that the ability could never fully manifest, but wore down the neural pathways. It was the same result as starting a car but not releasing the key after the engine catches: the engine would continually try to turn over and fire, but couldn't ever fully start.

Dawn came and went, and eventually the sun began to set again.

Yawning, I dropped the phone into the pocket of my lab coat and checked my watch. "Oh, good lord, I've been awake for 36 hours," I muttered to myself, instantly reaching for my coffee cup, only to find it empty. Feeling very much like Jack Sparrow – "where has all the rum gone?" – I forced myself to stand and go to the kitchenette where my team kept the coffee maker, only to find the coffee pot empty as well. I'd sent everyone else home for sleep several hours before, which unfortunately meant I had only myself to blame for my sudden lack of caffeine. Realizing that we were out of coffee beans, I sighed and went back to my office.

The entire building was empty except for the two security guards that paroled the halls like clockwork. Every hour or so, they would knock on the doorframe of my office and poke a head in to check on me. I would always smile and wave and continue on with whatever phone call I was currently on. And I was _always_ on the phone.

Once the immediate crisis had been more or less handled, there were bureaucratic issues I had to take care of. First was a call to the company's CEO, who had been understandably aggravated and had lectured me for a solid hour on taking security seriously. Then I'd had to talk to the building's IT department and ask them to both improve security and figure out how someone had found the volunteer's information, which had taken longer than expected as the department head vehemently denied the possibility of anyone breaching his "airtight firewall."

Then, Legal had called me, faxing over mountains of paperwork and I'd spent the next five hours signing and locating documents and transcripts for them. I'd had to find a courier to send them over, because in their words, they needed those forms yesterday if they were going to launch a plausible defense. After that, the IT department head had called me to tell me that there had indeed been a hacker – surprise, surprise – and that the hole he'd come in through had been fixed, but that they didn't know who he was. Of course, now that it was 8 pm on Sunday night, it was getting more and more difficult again to get people on the phone.

I looked up when there was a knock on my doorframe, expecting to see the night guard. To my surprise, Gabriel entered and frowned when he saw me still in my evening gown. "You haven't showered or slept since yesterday morning, have you?"

I was too tired to smile. "I took a twenty minute nap at noon. Is that coffee?"

He handed me one of the Starbucks cups he was holding. "Have you eaten at least?"

I took a swig of coffee, burning my tongue in the process. "I had twenty minutes. I prioritized."

He grimaced. "I'm taking you home. No, Hero. No arguments. I can see the symptoms of sleep deprivation." I raised my eyebrows in challenge, and he arched one of his in response to my doubt. "Your hands are trembling, your eyes are twitching spasming involuntarily, and I can see goose bumps on your skin indicating a decrease in body temperature."

I harrumphed grumpily. "Is it this obnoxious when I do that?"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm adding crankiness to the list. Come on, I'm putting you to bed before you collapse."

My protests fell on deaf ears as he more or less marched me out of the building and into his car. As he pulled out onto the road, the quiet of the car and the steady hum of the engine lulled me to sleep, and I only surfaced long enough to feel him carry me into the apartment building, strip off my gown, and tuck me in bed.


	10. Chapter 10

Weeks passed, and the trial was put back on track. The police linked the saboteur's fingerprints on the devices with those found on fragments of the bomb that had destroyed our first lab months before. They had also found matching prints on several of the threatening letters sent to our new lab, though the letters were unsigned and there was still no name to put to the saboteur's description.

Life carried on as it always did. Gabriel and I made dinner in the evenings, and then we would sit together on the couch and talk or read or watch TV. It was simple and easy and comforting, the beginnings of a life together.

I opened the apartment door and literally ran into Peter. Friday night was always Girls' night, and our men usually went and smoked cigars and played poker, or whatever it was that groups of guys did together. Peter hastily steadied me on my feet with a smile, pressing a platonic kiss to my cheek. "I trust our wives are suitably intoxicated," he asked with a grin.

I laughed. "We may or may not have killed more than a few bottles of wine while we watched Magic Mike."

Kendall snorted as he cleaned off the dining room table. "That movie is complete crap. It's just eye candy for women."

I arched an eyebrow as I tugged off my heels, bracing one hand on Peter's shoulder for balance. "Yeah, because you guys love Baywatch for its incredible _plot_." I waved a stiletto pointedly at the five men rolling their eyes at me. "I don't know what you guys are complaining about, anyway. You should be thanking me for my pick. I essentially just got your significant others drunk and horny. They're pretty easy lays right now."

There was a heartbeat of silence as the males processed my words, and then a mass exodus that made me laugh. "Thanks for having us over, Gray. Next Friday, right? Bye." A parade of men hastily kissed my cheek as they passed on their way out of the apartment, and I grinned as I bolted the door behind them.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and Gabriel pressed a kiss to my neck. He smelled like bourbon and cigars and the cologne he knew I loved. "So, are you an easy lay, too," he teased as I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I grinned and kissed him, gently pushing him back to the couch. As he sat with a grin, I straddled him and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh, Mr. Gray. I'm tipsy, I'm turned on, and I'm just looking for some innocent young man to have my wicked way with."

His hands gripped my hips as I claimed his mouth for a deep, steamy kiss, and his brown eyes were dilated and smoldering when I eventually pulled back. "Lucky me."

I laughed and slid his open shirt over his shoulders, exposing a broad chest smattered with chest hair to my wandering hands. Even as I pressed a kiss to his collar bone, large hands were sliding beneath my skirt to fondle my thigh and the sensation of his powerful hands on me sent shivers up my spine.

Moving up from his chest, I ran my lips along his jaw until I could capture his mouth with my own. The course stubble covering Gabriel's jaw rubbed against my softer skin as he kissed me back, his hands tightening on my thighs as he deepened the kiss. Still gentle, it became hungry and possessive, sending little frissons of pleasure straight to my belly when he caught my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently before releasing it. His warm hands slipped from beneath my skirt to rest on my waist and he held me to him as his lips moved to my neck, eliciting a soft sigh from my as I arched my neck to give him better access.

A cold breeze suddenly touched my chest, startling me enough that I stiffened slightly and glanced down. Though his hands were still on my waist, he'd telekinetically unbuttoned my shirt. I shot Gabriel a sardonic smile as he leered at me, unabashed. "That's cheating."

"I prefer the term, 'expediting the process'," he countered, already pushing the shirt down my arms and nuzzling the valley between my breasts. I started laughing and felt him smile against my skin. "Shall we move this to the bedroom?"

Still grinning, I climbed off him and stood, holding out my hand to him, which he took without hesitation and let me tug him to his feet. His dark eyes were sparkling as I pulled him to the bedroom. Without warning, he yanked me back to him and I found myself pressed against his chest as he towered over me. He grinned at me as invisible hands began disrobing me, and I rolled my eyes in amusement as he showed off. My skirt and panties were soon discarded on the floor with my shirt, quickly followed by my bra like an X-rated trail of breadcrumbs.

Still grinning down at me, he backed me the rest of the way to the bed before suddenly hoisting me off my feet (I was positive he must have used telekinesis for that) and tossed me backwards onto the bed. I was laughing when he climbed on top of me and pulled my leg up around his waist, burying his head in my cleavage.

His hand, however, seemed less interested in making me laugh; it had found its way to the back of my thigh again. My giggle ended abruptly on a gasp when his hand slid between my legs and one tantalizing finger ran slowly up my folds and I shivered in anticipation.

By now, Gabriel had moved from my throat to my bare breasts. As one long finger slowly circled that little bud of nerves between my legs, his mouth was focused on my nipple, nipping at the sensitive flesh. I ran my hands through his thick hair, reveling in the sensations. He began kissing his way down my stomach, taking his time on the way down to nip and lick along all those sensitive places that he knew I loved.

He kissed the inside of both my thighs before slowly working his way between my legs. I was already wet for him, but Gabriel was an over-achiever at heart and wouldn't let things progress without teasing me a little first. His tongue licked at the whisper-thin skin where my leg met my groin, and I shivered in need. He continued teasing me until I thought I would burst into flames, and when he finally took one long, slow lick between my folds, I nearly came off the bed.

One long finger slipped inside me then, my insides practically dripping with need for him, and I bucked helplessly as he expertly rubbed at my g-spot. My toes curled as he patiently pressed me closer and closer to that wonderful ledge, bringing me to the brink again and again only to stop at the last second, until finally I whimpered his name in need. Only then did he begin licking and rubbing in earnest, and I shattered with a cry.

Grinning, he slid back up me as I panted and flipped me onto my stomach. He licked and nibbled his way down my spine until he reached the small of my back, then straightened and hoisted my hips up until I was on my hands and knees, completely exposed to him. He cupped between my legs, enjoying seeing me utterly at his mercy and dripping with need for him.

He slid into me slowly, both of us savoring the sensation like fine wine. The feeling of being stretched and filled by this man, the most powerful man in the world, was something I hoped I never quite got used to. He took me slow and easy – there was no rush tonight as he gripped my hips for leverage.

Eventually, though, I decided that I'd had enough of him holding the proverbial reins. Using a move I'd learned in a self-defense class, I hooked my leg around him and swung us until he was on his back, then straddled him. His surprised laugh ended on a moan when I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head of his penis. After all, what was good for the goose, and all that.

As he had done to me, I teased him, bringing him again and again to the point of completion without letting him fall over that incredible cliff. It wasn't until he growled my name in frustration that I finally grinned and straddled him, slowly lowering myself onto him until we were merged completely.

Intending to make this last, I swirled my hips instead of riding him, shivering at the delicious feel of him moving against my womb. His eyes, so recently light and full of laughter, were dark now with need and love as he took my hand and began pressing kisses along the inside of my wrist, inhaling the scent of my perfume. Touched at the unexpected display of tenderness, I leaned down and kissed him gently.

What had started as playful sex slowly morphed into lovemaking, and I could see my own devotion echoed in his eyes as he cupped my cheek with his palm, our bodies pressed together everywhere. As I came circled again towards that blissful cliff, I buried my face in his neck, coming to completion when he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. My body clenched around him like a vice, and his arms tensed around me just as tightly as he finally reached his own peak.

0o0o0o0o0

A few hours and a ton of beard burn later, I was pulled from a deep sleep by the sudden lack of warmth when Gabriel abruptly removed his arm from my waist and sat up in bed. Curious, I rolled over and put a questioning hand on his back. "Someone's in the apartment," he said lowly. "Stay here."

"I'll call the police," I said softly, already climbing out of bed and throwing a robe around my naked form as I reached for my cell phone. "Oh, crap, my phones in the other room." Gabriel glanced at me as he pulled on his discarded pants, but our attention was diverted when footsteps stopped softly outside the bedroom door.

The handle began to turn silently, the intruder trying not to wake us, and Gabriel somehow managed to vanish into the shadows behind the door. Stuck between the window and the bed, I squeaked quietly in alarm and dropped to the floor, silently cursing the storage boxes that prevented me from hiding under the bed.

I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sounds of my breathing as I heard booted feet move into the room. Almost as soon as the intruder was inside, the door slammed shut and a shadowy figure was thrown against the wall and pinned there by some unseen force, his feet dangling uselessly above the ground. Gabriel materialized out of the shadows to stand before him, his hand outstretched to hold the captive man telekinetically in the air.

Unsure what to do – the man was pinned on the wall I was hiding beside and could see me perfectly – I stood and watched as Gabriel slowly stalked towards his cornered prey, an unfamiliar gun casually dangling from his other hand. "You're not just a robber, are you? Robbers don't carry military grade silencers." His dark head was tilted and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he stared at the pinned man: if the man hadn't come for our possessions, then he was here for us, and it would take much more than a gun to kill Gabriel. We seemed to reach the same conclusion simultaneously, and Gabriel's outstretched hand turned until it looked like he was Force Choking the intruder, who coughed and gagged as an invisible hand closed on his windpipe. "You're here for Hero? Why?" The hand loosened enough that the man could speak.

"I wasn't paid to ask questions," he snarled. "My orders were to kill her, that's it."

Someone had put a hit out on me? They'd actually hired an assassin to kill me? Perversely, I was torn between being terrified and being absolutely thrilled that I warranted a hit man.

"Who hired you," Gabriel snarled.

"I don't know. My employer handles the clients and tells me the target. That's it." The man's eyes narrowed at Gabriel. "Are you going to kill me or what? Let's not drag this out."

Gabriel glanced at me, and all I could do was look frightened. It was definitely not my finest moment, but I was a little out of my league here. Finally, Gabriel looked back at the man. "I would really, really enjoy killing you, but it would upset Hero, and I really don't like seeing her cry. So here is what will happen next: you will return to your employer and tell him that Dr. Ramsey is under _my_ protection, which makes her off limits to anyone unwilling to make an enemy of Sylar."

The man's mask of boredom slipped slightly and his eyes widened. "You're Sylar?"

Gabriel's lips parted, but it was more a menacing display of teeth than a smile, and he clicked his tongue sarcastically. "I guess that wasn't in her file, but I trust you'll add it, because if anything happens to her, you will see _exactly_ how savage and ruthless I will become. She is the only person for whom I will become Sylar again."

Gabriel released the man, who instantly landed on his feet like a cat. The man glanced at the silencer in Gabriel's hand, and Gabriel shot him a dry look that clearly said, "you can't be serious." Shrugging, the other man moved to the living room and Gabriel escorted him out, his eyes watchful.

As soon as they left the room, I more or less collapsed on the bed. My heart was pounding a sharp staccato in my chest, blood rushed in my ears, and the bitter taste of adrenalin coated my tongue. Absurdly, it occurred to me that if I were in Victorian England, this would be an ideal time to swoon.

"Hero?"

Between the blood rushing in my ears and my head between my knees, I could barely hear him. "I seem...to be...hyper...ventil...ating..." I gasped out.

"Well...just stop it right now," he said firmly, clearly unsure what to do. I shot him an incredulous look as he hovered bedside me.

Gradually, I forced myself to calm down, and my breathing slowly evened out until at last I could sit up. "They hired someone to kill me. To actually end my life."

Assured that I wasn't panicking anymore, he sat on the bed and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. "There's no need to fear them, Hero. They won't lay a finger on you now that they know I'm here."

I rested my forehead against his, eyes closed. "Did you mean it? That whole thing about becoming Sylar for me?"

"Every word." He raised his head and tucked some hair behind my ear, meeting my gaze seriously. "I love you and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, even if it means reopening that chapter of my life."

I smiled and kissed him gently. "That is somehow the sweetest and most disturbing thing I've ever heard. I love you, too, you bizarrely twisted man."

He pressed an affectionate kiss to my nose before releasing me.


	11. Chapter 11

Summer brought a sweltering heat wave that turned New York into a city of hot, grumpy trolls. I had grown up in a hot, humid climate and was more or less comfortable, even when the air conditioner broke and our apartment became an oven. Gabriel tried to fix it, but lost his patience in the oppressive heat and threw what could only be described as a super-charged tantrum, resulting in the dead machine being psychically electrocuted and telekinetically hurled out the window. I, of course, didn't stop teasing him about it for weeks, especially when all the appliance stores were back-ordered for replacements.

Still, there was a bonus to scorching heat waves: Gabriel walked around shirtless whenever we were in the apartment, and I definitely enjoyed the eye candy. For his part, Gabriel certainly seemed to appreciate seeing me walk around in just panties and his old t-shirts, because every time I turned around, he was trying to get into my proverbial pants. Nine times out of ten, he got what he was after; there wasn't a woman on Earth with the willpower to turn down a shirtless Gabriel Gray when he tried to seduce her.

Of course, we couldn't always be going at it like bunnies, and our respective jobs had air-conditioning. The project was going well again, despite the previous mishaps, because everyone seemed to remember how important it was. Phase 2, where the subjects wore them in their daily lives, was completed at the end of August, and the FDA readily approved us moving on to Phase 3, where our product would be tested across the country on a larger portion of the demographic.

Steven graduated Summa Cum Laude and employers were beating down his door in attempts to woo him, but he came to me privately one day and told me that he wanted to stay with me until the project finished. In September, an old university professor of mine in Atlanta asked me to guest lecture, an opportunity I jumped at both because he was a friend of mine and because it gave me an excuse to see my family for the first time since the previous Thanksgiving.

As soon as I stepped out of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, I saw my eldest brother waiting for me with a gigantic smile on his face. "Benedick!"

My brother wrapped me in a massive hug, squeezing me tightly before releasing me to take my suitcase. "How was the flight?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Short, thankfully. How are my nieces and nephews? I trust I will get to see them this week?"

Benedick gave me an are-you-serious look. "Of course you will. You know Mom started planning a massive get-together as soon as you said you were coming."

I grinned and slid my sunglasses down as he pulled out onto the road. "Can you blame her? I'm her favorite child."

"Oh, please. You're her favorite for the week because she forgot all your irritating quirks. I'm her favorite for the year because I gave her the most recent grandchild."

I arched absolutely eyebrow. "I'm telling your wife you said that."

As Benedick filled me in on all the family news, I couldn't stop smiling. I loved my life in New York, but coming home was always something I looked forward to, and my time away made me appreciate everything I missed.

My parents were out of the house as soon as they saw us pull into the driveway, and I was wrapped in my mother's arms before I was even out of the car. "Hi, Mom. I missed you both so much!"

My mother pressed a kiss to my cheek, refusing to release me. "You're never leaving again. I'll lock you in your room if I have to." I squeezed her tightly before trying to pull back, but she tightened her arms. "I'm not done yet."

I laughed and she finally released me, only to pass me on to my father, who hugged me just as fiercely. Dad always smelled like old books and the cigars he bought but never smoked, a comforting scent that I'd never appreciated until I'd left home for the first time. Now, I always inhaled deeply every time I hugged him, relishing the smell of my childhood. Finally, he released me, but kept an arm around my shoulders and Mom took my other hand as we made our way to the house.

All six of Patricia and Thomas Ramsey's children could describe each detail of the old house by memory; this was where we'd grown up. The home stood out proudly from the others on the street in more ways than one, as though the unique quirks of its inhabitants had manifested over the years. While our old bicycles and toys had been replaced by newer models as the original 6 children had kids of their own, the lawn was still littered with children's playthings. Two tree houses – one for the boys, one for the girls – that had been carefully maintained over the decades still perched protectively in the ancient trees on the property, and a little toe-headed boy the spitting image of Benedick was currently scrambling down the ladder. I knew in the backyard there was another tree with a thick, knotted rope that the other kids were probably using to swing into the deep creek it overlooked.

Even the colonial house itself had retained its quirky personality over the years. It was well-maintained – my father was a stickler for house maintenance – but my parents had painted it bright turquoise with white trim when they bought it in 1973 and hadn't changed their minds since. My parents shared an office on the ground floor, where floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up all available wall space and were arranged by the Dewey decimal system; punishment as a child meant that you had to spend hours carefully dusting each book and making sure it was in its correct place.

Most of the adults in my family were waiting for me in the massive kitchen, and for the next several minutes I felt disconcertingly like a dish at the dinner table as I was passed from person to person around the room. I hugged my twin, Leo – his full name was Leonidas and he wore Armani suits to work every day – then Lucian and his life partner Jackson – both body builders who couldn't clean a room to save their lives – before being passed over to Julius and his sweet wife Gretchen – two chefs who owned the restaurant they worked at. Finally, I arrived at the oldest of us and my only sister, Ariadne, an archeologist with red hair that matched her fiery personality. This was my family, this strange amalgamation of ideas and people and personalities that shouldn't fit so perfectly together, but did. The pieces of my family were all unique, but fit and worked together like pieces of the clocks Gabriel could never quite get me interested in.


	12. Chapter 12

It was Sunday morning and my family was in church. As an atheist, I'd had the house to myself while they were out, but what was supposed to be a relaxing morning alone had turned into my curled around the toilet silently plotting to murder my mother in retaliation for giving me food poisoning.

"I will be avenged," I vowed weakly as I sat back against the tub and wiped my mouth.

"Whatever you say, dear," Mom agreed distractedly as she came in, dressed in her Sunday best and a bundle of folded towels under her arm.

"You!" I pointed at her tiredly and put as much menacing fury into my glare as I could muster, but I doubted it was very intimidating given my present condition.

She arched an eyebrow when she finally started paying attention to me. "You sure you want to sit on the floor? I haven't mopped in here in a month o' Sundays."

My stomach rolled at the thought and I lurched to the toilet as my body rejected anything I'd eaten in the last year. "I'm onto your plot, vile woman," I groaned into the toilet bowl between dry heaves. "You gave me food poisoning as punishment for leaving."

I didn't have to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. "Don't be dramatic. We all ate the same thing and no one else is sick. It's probably just one of your brothers playing a practical joke again. You know how they are." She started to leave, but paused at the door to give me a warning look. "I know how this usually goes, and if you kids break another set of china, none of you are too old to be taken over my knee."

I laid my head back against the tub's rim and stared at the fairies and butterflies that still covered the ceiling. "I remember her being more sympathetic when I was a kid," I muttered. 

0o0o0o0o0o0

Three days later, I was reclining on a towel beside the creek, dozing off and on under the late afternoon sun as my sisters-in-law chatted a few feet away. My stomach was full of my mother's cooking and was pleasantly calm for the first time in days.

A shadow fell across my, and I cracked my eyes to see Ariadne standing above me with a hand on her hip. "Are you sleeping again," she asked incredulously. "That's all you seem to do now."

I shrugged and closed my eyes again. "I'm guessing it's from the food poisoning. I swear I've never been this exhausted in my life."

Ariadne snorted as she spread out her towel and laid down beside me. "No one poisoned you. I fed that same food to my kids, and while I love you, I love them more."

"Good to know," I said dryly. "Maybe it was a bug, then."

"Maybe," she agreed thoughtfully, slipping her sunglasses into her hair to enjoy the sunlight. "I made key lime pie for dessert tonight."

My mouth watered at the thought. "Oh, man, that sounds delicious."

Surprised, she looked at me. "You hate key lime pie."

"I know, but now I'm craving it."

She was silent for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. "Are you pregnant," she asked accusingly.

I snorted at the ridiculous thought. "I'm on birth control."

Ariadne arched one red eyebrow. "So was I, right before I had your niece."

My laughter ended abruptly, realizing she was right; I'd been there when my sister had taken the pregnancy test. And come to think of it, I'd been on antibiotics a few weeks ago for an infection. "There's no way," I said, but it came out more questioning than I'd intended.

Ariadne nodded, standing. "Come on. Let's go pick up a test."

Ten minutes later, Ariadne and I were still wearing our bathing suits and cover ups as we stood in the pharmacy section of our corner store. The shelves were stocked with more pregnancy tests than I knew existed, and I suddenly felt very out out of my depth. "How do you know which one to get? Do you just pick any one of them? And why are they packaged together like that? This doesn't seem like something you would stock up on."

My big sister snorted. "They sometimes get false readings."

Alarmed, I began scooping up as many different types as I could carry, prompting Ariadne to laugh at me. "Cool your jets, Panicky. These suckers are $15 each."

I did my best to stay calm as we purchased the tests and drove back to the house, but as we waited in my childhood bedroom for the 12 sticks I'd peed on to finish, it became harder and harder to keep my composure. Ariadne watched with amusement as I paced the floor. "Hero, would it really be so bad if you're pregnant? You have a great career, your boyfriend is gainfully employed, and from what you've said, you two are perfectly matched."

I crossed my arms and kept pacing. "Yeah, well, there are some things I haven't told you."

She frowned. "Even if you guys are having problems, being a single mother isn't the end of the world. You have your whole family to help."

I waved my hand dismissively. "No, it's not that. It's..." I sighed and flopped face first next to her on the bed. "People want me dead," I said at last, my words muffled by the bed.

"I'm sorry, what," Ariadne asked in alarm. "People are trying to kill you? What people? Why?"

I turned my head to look at her. "We don't know who, but it has to be because of my project...a hit man broke into our apartment. He was no match for Gabriel, and there hasn't been another attempt since, but...still. Not exactly the environment I'd bring a baby into."

"Yeah, I wouldn't think so," Ariadne agreed, her eyes wide as saucers. "What are you going to do if you are pregnant?"

"Have a massive panic attack, probably." I tugged a pillow over and buried my face in it.

"Can you just...stop," she asked awkwardly. "Can you just quit the project?"

I raised my head just long enough to look at her. "It's too important. Too many people need my help, need the device. I can't quit now when the finish line is in sight." I buried my face back in the pillow and sighed.

Ariadne rubbed my back soothingly. "Maybe it's all blown over. You never know."

We both jumped when the timer on my phone buzzed, and I laid there for a moment, thinking very hard about Shrodinger's cat: according to the theory, I was both pregnant and not pregnant until I looked at the tests. Finally, Ariadne nudged me, and I grudgingly climbed off the bed. She came with me as I walked over to the spread of sticks on the desks. "Negative," I breathed in relief.

She clicked her tongue and held up another one, "Positive."

My stomach sunk. "Oh, I don't like this game at all." The others were positive as well, and I slowly sank to the floor, still holding the lone negative test. "What are the odds that all the others are wrong and this one is right?"

She frowned sympathetically. "You want me to lie?"

I beat the non-peed-on end of the stick against my head. "Oh, this company is getting a strongly worded letter," I said shakily.

"Oh, Hero." Ariadne sat on the floor next to me and took my hand, clasping it tightly, and for a long time we were silent. She was my sister; we shared an innate understanding of each other that no one could match, and she knew that I needed to process this quietly, to take a step back and let myself be absolutely consumed by fear of the unknown for a moment. When it was time to talk, I would let her know, just like always. She pulled my head to rest on her shoulder, and stroked my hair soothingly for a long time, until finally I sighed and straightened.

Recognizing her cue, she met my gaze seriously. "You have options, Hero. If you choose to end the pregnancy, I'll drive you to the clinic myself. If you choose to keep it, I'll help you find adoptive parents, or help you decorate a nursery."

I scrubbed my face with my hands. "I don't know yet. I… I need to talk to Gabriel." She nodded in sympathetic understanding, brushing a lock of hair away from my face. I bit my lip, then blurted, "I need you to keep this a secret. Until I know what I'm going to do, I don't want anyone to know."

She smiled and put out her foot so that her ankle tattoo was showing, and tugged my leg until I did the same. On my ankle was a matching tattoo: _What is her, is me. We are one person, broken in two. _"I'm your sister. I've got your back, Hero."


	13. Chapter 13

As usual, the airport was crammed with people as I stepped off the plane in New York, and by the time I made my way out to hail a cab, my normally cheerful mood had taken a distinct swan dive. The airline had lost my luggage, TSA had randomly selected me for extra screening, I was going through the worst caffeine withdrawal of my life due to pregnancy restrictions, and I hadn't gotten a chance to eat since dinner the night before, which meant my morning sickness was back in full swing and I'd had to sprint to the bathroom to dry heave into a public toilet. On top of all that, my hormones were rapidly turning me into a roller coaster of emotions, and I almost started crying when Gabriel thoughtfully surprised me by showing up to take me home.

Instead, I managed to muster an enormous smile and launched myself at him, and he caught me with ease, kissing me soundly in greeting. In fact, I was so happy to see him that it wasn't until we arrived at home and I found that he'd made my favorite for dinner that I burst into tears, because the smell of cooking meat had me sprinting for the toilet. All the trouble he'd gone to, and I couldn't eat it.

He was more than a little alarmed when I dropped my purse and sprinted to the toilet, but rubbed my back soothingly as I dry heaved. "Well, this isn't exactly the reaction I was expecting. Wait, why are you crying? Are you alright? Hero, tell me what's wrong."

He wet a washcloth and handed it to me, and I sat back, wiping my face tiredly, still sniffling a little. Gabriel met my gaze levelly when I stared up at him, until finally I pat the ground beside me and he sat down, resting his elbows on his bent knees. "Hero, talk to me."

I sighed. "You know when I had that sinus infection a few weeks ago, and I said we had to be careful? Well, we weren't careful enough."

Gabriel was one of the most intelligent men that I'd ever met, and he instantly caught what I was trying to tell him. "Are you..."

I nodded and sniffled pathetically. "My eggo is preggo." Gabriel's dark eyes were wide as he stared at me silently. "Gabriel? Say something." When he didn't respond or even blink, I waved my hand in front of his eyes. Nothing. "Um...I'm going to check some emails from Steven. You just...uh...process."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began checking my email, replying to the updates that Steven had sent. My stomach churned in protest of the smells wafting in from the kitchen, but was beginning to settle. Gabriel was silent for so long that I sort of zoned out and was startled when he finally spoke. "What do you want to do?"

I met his gaze firmly as I set down my phone. "Honestly, I don't know. I want kids, but…I don't know if I want them right now. I mean, my work is important, and I won't be able to give it the attention it deserves if I'm taking care of a baby, and vice versa."

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's ultimately your decision, but I want a family. We could get married and try the white picket fence thing."

"Gabriel, we're not white picket fence people, and this isn't 1955. I'm not worried about my reputation."

He took my hand where it rested on my leg, and we both stared at our intertwined fingers. "Let's just think about it. We've got time before we have to make a decision. Let's revisit the subject in a week."

"Alright," I agreed, resting my head on his shoulder. "But you have to get rid of the baked ziti, because the smell is making me want to projectile vomit everywhere a la The Exorcist."

0o0o0o0o0o0

_I sang softly as I rocked the baby to sleep in our house for the first time. The nursery was dim now that the sunlight had finally faded, and the nightlight cast a dreamy haze over the room. A shadow from the hall fell across us and I looked up to see Gabriel leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. His eyes were soft as he watched us. _

"_Are you singing Greenday," he asked in amusement, keeping his voice quite so that he didn't wake the sleeping newborn._

_I smiled sheepishly. "It's been stuck in my head all day." Gabriel laughed softly and came closer, stroking the peach fuzz on the top of his daughter's head. "She spit up all over the Tickle-Me Elmo that you hate," I told him, arching an eyebrow in amusement. "I had to throw it out."_

_His dark eyes were warm with love and amusement. "That's my girl. She wanted to spare me the effort of blowing it up." I rolled my eyes, stifling laughter as I stood and carefully put her in the crib. Gabriel put his arm around my waist and we stood there for a moment, staring at the baby sleeping in the golden glow cast from the nightlight. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You did so well, Hero. She's perfect." _

I started when Steven tapped on the glass wall of the conference room, gesturing that he needed to talk to me. A glance around the table confirmed that the other members had zoned out of the meeting as well, so I didn't feel bad about slipping out of the room for a moment. "Talk to me, Goose," I said as the door swung shut behind me.

"I just got a call from Charles Aringheri's office. He's in town and he wants to meet you."

I frowned. "Not that I'm complaining about being pulled from that meeting – Good God, it was drier than the Mojave Desert – but is that all?"

Steven shook his head. "No, I mean, he wants to meet you _now_. Right now. His flight leaves in two hours."

My eyes widened as I read the address scribbled on the paper he thrust in my hand. "You've got to be kidding me. This is across town."

"Yeah, I know." He was already shoving my purse at me. "There's a cab waiting outside. I'll hold the fort."

"Remind me to give you a raise," I called as I sprinted down the hall as fast as I could in stilettos and a pencil skirt.

It was rush hour, which meant it took me almost an hour to get to the address Steven had listed. Still, when the cab pulled up, I wondered if perhaps Steven had written it down incorrectly; the small ranch house was certainly not a place I expected a multimillionaire to frequent. It was well-maintained with what was clearly a new coat of paint and a recently mown lawn, but we were deep in middle-class suburbs. Confused but knowing I needed to meet with the man who had bet millions on me being the proverbial goose that could lay the golden egg, I paid the cabbie and walked to the door, nervously straightening my skirt and blouse as I rang the doorbell.

The door swung open to reveal a man in his mid-forties, his golden blond hair neatly combed back despite it being strangely cut, as if someone had taken scissors to it to make it look more presentable. He was gaunt in appearance, as though he hadn't eaten in a while, and his clothes fit badly: pants too short for his gangly height revealed white socks, and his white collared shirt accentuated bony wrists. Consciously silencing the internal alarm ringing in my mind – bad fashion sense and a high metabolism were no reason to judge someone – I smiled warmly at him. "I'm Dr. Ramsey. Mr. Aringheri's office called me with this address?"

The man smiled and stood aside with a gesture for me to enter. After momentary hesitation at his awkward silence, I obligingly slipped past him into the house, noting with surprise that he locked the door behind us. He motioned for me to hand him my purse, which I did with no small amount of confusion, before he led me down a hall. The office he ushered me into, if indeed it could be called an office, was starkly furnished with just two chairs facing each other. My misgivings were rapidly growing, but I shrugged them off; maybe Mr. Aringheri was somehow trying to test me or make a point.

It wasn't until a familiar face walked in that my stomach plummeted. "Dr. Goswami. What are you doing here?"

The Indian man smiled at me but glanced at the gangly man who had greeted me. "Thank you, Tom." Tom smiled and left, closing the door firmly behind him. Dr. Goswami turned back to me, rolling his eyes. "I found him wandering around on the street. I'm fairly sure he's mute, but maybe he just doesn't like us. Still, he cleans up fairly well. Please, have a seat, Doctor."

"Actually, I think I'd prefer you explain what's going on." My eyes drifted to the door behind him.

He frowned at me in disappointment. "Now, Hero, I thought we were past all this distrustful paranoia. It's unbecoming on such an otherwise lovely woman."

"It's Doctor Ramsey." Right now, I didn't give a rat's ass what he considered ladylike behavior. "Either tell me why I'm here or I'm leaving."

He sighed and clicked his tongue. "So rude. To answer your question, Dr. Ramsey, you're here because you stubbornly refuse to stop work on your project. No matter what I throw at you, you continue on like the Energizer Bunny. It's very frustrating." He watched as I tugged off my heels, and I didn't care that he saw that I was preparing to run. If he could calmly stand there and imply that he was behind all the disasters that had plagued my project, then I could calmly arm myself with the sharp heels of my stilettos. Well, calmly being a relative term; my heart was hammering in my chest and I'd instinctively fallen into a crouch. "There's no point in all that. After all this preparation, do you really think I would implicate myself if I hadn't anticipated you trying to bolt?"

"Do you seriously think you can tell me that you blew up a lab, killed my best friend, attempted to murder dozens of volunteers by tampering with the device, and send a freaking _hit man_ after me, and have me just stand here? You're a _monster_," I hissed. My gaze inspected the room and the man in front of me as I spoke, checking for anything he could use as a weapon. Seeing none, I kept my heels in my hand and moved to the door, ready to swing out with the improvised spikes if he made a move.

"You call me a monster, yet you are the one trying to take away the powers given to an entire demographic by God himself," Dr. Goswami replied chidingly, as if to a child. "None of my actions would have been necessary had you simply minded your own business."

He was moving away from me as steadily as I approached, until my hand was on the doorknob. "Yeah, I was trying to give people the choice to have a normal life," I said sarcastically. "Fuck me, right?" I rolled my eyes skyward and swung the door open. In the split second it took to register Tom's presence, he had already stuck the hypodermic needle deep in my arm. 


	14. Chapter 14

I woke slowly, instinctively fighting the tranquilizer still keeping my system sedated, until I finally managed to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. When I did finally come to, I instantly wished I hadn't; I was in an honest-to-God cell installed in someone's cellar. The large room was chill and damp despite the summer warmth I knew was still outside, and the sensation of cold was only amplified by the grey cinder blocks and rough cement floor that made up the house's foundation. The only light came from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Though the room itself was fairly large, my corner was sectioned off by floor-to-ceiling steel bars and a padlock that looked like it would give a Halliburton security case a run for it's money. There was no bed or blankets of any kind, and only a large bucket in the corner, which I could guess the purpose of from the roll of toilet paper beside it. Outside the cage was a garden hose and a long wooden bench, both situated in the center of the room. I grimaced; how very Silence of the Lambs of him.

I sat there on the concrete for a long time, though how much time actually passed, I didn't know. Finally, though, the door to the basement opened enough for Dr. Goswami to stick his head in and see I was awake. He smiled warmly as he trotted down the stairs. I just glared, "I'm surprised you're not chanting 'It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.'"

He clicked his tongue at me. "Your American movies are quite inventive, I must give you that. But no, it's not your skin that I need from you. It's your mind."

So that was why I was still alive. "Quit speaking in riddles. It's not as mysterious and intimidating as you think."

He pursed his lips. "I need you to design something that will render your device inactive."

My laugh was humorless. "And why would I do that?" I gestured at the hose. "You think a little water is going to make me sabotage everything I've worked for?"

Dark eyes narrowed. "I think you're going to help me rectify the atrocities you've committed against mankind."

"And if I don't?"

"In a former life, I was Mussad, Dr. Ramsey," he said levelly, turning to leave. "I have other means to persuade you." The door swung shut behind him, and I was once again on my own.

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the bars. He was a former member of the most elite and ruthless intelligence agency on the planet. I knew then that I didn't have a chance in hell of making it out of here alive; I was way too much of a liability to let go, and outsmarting him enough to escape would be impossible.

_Three days_, I told myself firmly. _Three days and the device goes live. Three days and so many people will have it that it will be too late._

0o0o0o0o0o0

I clenched my fists when I heard the basement door swing open. Three pairs of footsteps approached, but I stalwartly refused to turn around, focusing solely on the wall ahead of me. "Are you ready to work, Dr. Ramsey?"

I stayed silent. We'd been through this routine so many times in the last seven hours that I knew talking wouldn't prevent what came next. He would not be reasoned with; in his mind, the only function of my device was to forcibly strip powers from every Special, and he would be heralded as a savior when he finally killed me, but I was only allowed to die after I created something to render my device useless.

"Still unwilling to cooperate, I see. Gentlemen, if you will." The cage door swung open, and two pairs of footsteps approached, but I waited until they were within arms reach before I swung out. My fist connected with one man's face, and my elbow caught the other man's throat on the backswing. I wasn't quick enough, however. The first one recovered quickly and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back at a painful angle that instantly subdued me because I couldn't shift my weight.

It was ridiculous how easily they restrained me then, grabbing my arms to frog march me to the wooden bench and zip-tying me to it so that I lay prone. Dr. Goswami frowned in irritation at me. "I'm very much tiring of this. Why don't you just make this easier on yourself?"

I spat up at him, nailing him in the face. He sighed and nodded at the men, who proceeded to put a towel over my face. I knew what was coming next, but was powerless to stop it. I tensed instinctively as the hose turned on, and then water was pouring on my face.

I thrashed violently against my restraints as I choked, lost in the sensation of drowning. 

0o0o0o0o0o0

_Waterboarding is a form of torture that can cause extreme pain, lung damage, brain damage from oxygen deprivation, injuries such as broken bones from struggling against restraints, psychological trauma, and death_, my brain recited from a long-ago read article whose origins I couldn't remember.

I lay on the cold cement ground, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. There was a very dull sense of victory, but I clung to it. I had made it. The device had officially hit the international market. Any Special could get the help they needed now as hospitals around the world could prescribe and tailor the devices to their patients using common electrodes and the computer program we had designed and released over the summer. Three nights had passed – I knew because Dr. Goswami would remain away for 8 consecutive hours at a time – and I had lasted until it was too late for him to interfere with the project. It was finished. Dr. Goswami and the nameless men he was working with must have heard the news, because they hadn't come down in almost a day. I supposed they had decided to leave me here to die of starvation and dehydration. At least they weren't torturing me anymore.

No one had come to save me.

Though every night I cried for Gabriel, for _someone_ to find me, I knew it was useless. Steven had handed me the only piece of paper with the address and I strongly doubted Dr. Goswami was stupid enough to use his own phone to place the call. There was nothing tying me to this random house in the suburbs, no reason for anyone to think I was here.

Still, there was the tiniest ray of hope that I could never quite squash, a quiet stubborn voice in my head that told me Gabriel was coming, that he would find me and I just needed to hold on. And that little seed of hope was evil, because it gave me thoughts about him. It told me that we would get married after he rescued me, and we would live the white picket fence dream and have a gaggle of kids with normal names like Tom and Mike and Stephanie, instead of stupid names like Hero and Leonidas. We would get a dog and a cat, and maybe pony, because we would have daughters and screw it, Gabriel could literally make gold. In these dreams, I even clung to the unrealistic hope that the baby inside me was still alive even after the torture and sleep deprivation and lack of food or water and what I was nearly positive was a broken wrist from fighting the restraints.

The dreams made me feel better for a little while at a time, a short reprieve from this nightmare that was slowly killing me, so I didn't bother to chide myself for being illogical. They were the only thing keeping my heart beating. 


	15. Chapter 15

There were footsteps outside the basement door, and I instinctively started, my heart already pounding with the realization that Dr. Goswami was back with more sick ways to torture me. Because it was him. It was always him.

The door was flung open and footsteps ran down the stairs, but I didn't turn from the wall. He would either torture me or kill me, but not acknowledging his presence was the one thing I could control. As an added bonus, I knew it royally pissed him off.

"Hero? Jesus, it's you. Can you hear me?" I heard the padlock being ripped off its hinges, but I refused to turn. Dr. Goswami had used this tactic before, one of his more cruel forms of psychological torture: he had hired a shapeshifter and I'd only known it wasn't really Gabriel because they'd used the wrong shade of brown in his eyes. "Hero, it's me. Why won't you look at me?"

I waited until he put a hand on my shoulder, then lashed out with a fist to the man's face. It took him by surprise, but he caught my other wrist to subdue me, and I screamed in pain. Instantly, he released the broken arm with a look of horror and I cradled the appendage to my chest, shrinking away from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was," he began, but jumped back as I clawed at his face with my good hand when he made to move closer; I wasn't going to let them kill me without fighting like a wildcat. We struggled for a moment as the man with Gabriel's face tried to restrain me, but finally an unseen force pushed me away from him, I dropped to a crouch with a snarl.

"Jesus Christ, Hero. What the hell did they do to you?" The Gabriel doppelgänger pretended to be both wary and heartbroken, but I didn't buy it. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

He reached for me again, but I lashed out again with a glare. "At least you got the correct eye color this time," I snarled.

Gabriel paused, a look of horror flashing across his eyes, before he finally raised his hands and took a step back. "Hero, it's me. I can prove it."

"She won't believe it. We've played through this particular scenario too much in the last few days." We looked over to see Dr. Goswami enter, flanked by five men. Taunting one man was stupid enough, but seven was asking for a beating. I slunk to the corner and huddled there, unconsciously trying to make myself as small as possible as I looked for the riding crop they liked to use. Gabriel's eyes darkened with fury when he noticed, and he planted himself protectively between me and the others, shielding me with his body.

Dr. Goswami arched an eyebrow as he glanced between us. "You shouldn't turn your back on a cornered animal, Sylar. She's got a set of claws on her, and she's proven particularly adept at using her teeth."

Sylar growled, and I shrank so far into the corner that I practically blended with the cinder blocks. The doppelgänger cut an imposing silhouette in the basement light, all dark and broad shouldered and powerful. For a second, I could almost pretend that he was really my Gabriel. "I am going to kill all of your men, and then I'm going to kill you. It's going to be slow, and I'm going to make it hurt, because she's mine and you touched her."

Dr. Goswami clicked his tongue. "So violent, Sylar."

"Well, I'm a little over-protective," he snapped sarcastically. With a sudden twist of his hand, he telekinetically snapped the neck of one of the henchmen.

The other four shifted uneasily when the man dropped, but Dr. Goswami just cocked his head to the side and pulled out a handgun. "There are still five of us, Sylar."

"I'm invincible, so I like the odds," Sylar retorted dryly.

Dr. Goswami's smile was coldly triumphant. "But she's not." I didn't have time to blink before the gun swung at me and fired, but I instantly tensed in anticipation of the pain.

But it never came. I cracked open one eye to see a bullet frozen a hair's breadth from my face. My eyes widened and met Gabriel's, and I knew finally in that moment that it was really him. Slowly, I plucked the bullet from the air and pushed myself off the wall, coming to stand at Sylar's side, throwing the bullet at Dr. Goswami's feet. My gaze flicked to the other four men as I shakily braced myself with my good hand on Sylar's shoulder. "I know you did what he told you to because you were hungry and he gave you cash. I get it. But don't die for this man. Leave."

The four men looked at each other, then at Sylar, who stood there in his black clothes looking for all the world like Evil incarnate. For added effect, Sylar smiled at them, a menacing baring of teeth that had even me a little startled, and the men scampered away up the stairs. Sylar's eyes turned to Dr. Goswami and he gently shoved me behind him, using his own body to shield me. I was too weak to do anything but let him.

"So this is the infamous Sylar," Dr. Goswami mused. "The man who killed dozens of specials and collected their abilities. You call me a murderer, Hero, yet you chose a serial killer. What does that - _hurgh_." His speech was abruptly cut short when Sylar telekinetically wrapped the garden hose around his throat.

Sylar's eyes glinted dangerously as he stalked forward. "You're done talking now. Hero is my mate and the mother of my child. Because you threatened my family, you will see _exactly_ how ruthless I can be."

A towel drenched in water – the one he had used on me for days – came up and covered Dr. Goswami's nose and mouth as the garden hose bound his hands and feet. He choked and gagged and struggled as he fought against the sensation of drowning, the sensation that I had been subjected to for hours at a time over the past three days. What little sympathy I had for the homeless men he had hired to help him was absent now, as I gained a new perspective on what had been done to me. "Cover his eyes," I whispered hoarsely, my throat tight with remembered pain. "Make him drown in the dark like I did."

For the first time in my life, I stood by while a living thing suffered. Emotions swamped me as I watched him drown, images of Amanda's charred body, of pulling my injured colleagues from the lab, of rushing to the hospital and Marcella's parents screaming at me, of seeing Sylar fight off the hit man sent to kill me in my own home. This man had tortured me.

But as I watched him struggle fruitlessly to breathe, I suddenly felt like I was back on the wooden bench being tortured. I heard a high, keening wail from somewhere, and I realized it was me, and I was frantically yanking the towel from his face before I knew what I was doing. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let another living thing go through what I had, no matter how much I hated him. "Get it off! Stop it! Let him go!"

Instantly, the hose loosened and dropped to the floor as Sylar strode to my side. Dr. Goswami fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air. As soon as I felt Sylar pull me to his chest, I broke down and burst into tears. "I can't," I gasped as Sylar held me to him, his arms wrapped around me protectively. "I don't...know what to do... Gabriel ... help me!"

Though I had fallen over the cliff, I knew Gabriel would catch me. He telekinetically hurled Dr. Goswami into the cage I'd been locked in for days and slammed the door closed. The padlock swiftly floated over to lock him in as Sylar slipped an arm beneath my knees and cradled me to his chest, marching up the stairs with surprising speed.

He didn't let me go until we were on the lawn, and I blinked against the harsh sunlight. Though he set me on my feet, I found myself laying down in the grass, crying all the harder because the sun and grass and fresh air felt so wonderful against my skin. People began to appear from their homes, and Gabriel barked at them to call 911, but I grabbed his shirt to get his attention. "I need to be in the air. I need to be...I was caged like an animal...so much cement..."

Gabriel didn't hesitate to pick me up again, and then we were flying through the air, my breathing and tears slowing as I felt the air rush by me. I was safe. Gabriel had saved me. There were no cages here, no darkness or bars or cold cement. The rushing air that blew in my face and hair calmed me almost as well as the quiet did. It was a clear summer day, and I tilted my head back to feel the sun on my face.

I could feel eyes on me as we flew, and I met Gabriel's concerned gaze. "I kept dreaming that you'd come for me, and you did. You rescued me."

He kissed me gently. "I will always come for you. Always. Nothing can keep me away from you." 

0o0o0o0o0

Gabriel was hovering again, but I couldn't bring myself to mind. Emma was less smitten with him, however, and I was surprised her glare hadn't caused Gabriel to spontaneously combust. "I know every sensitive area of your body, and if you don't back off so I can read the chart, I will drop you like a bad habit."

I bit my lip to suppress a laugh. "Gabriel, come here and lay in bed with me," I said instead as I shifted to the side. Gabriel was literally the most powerful man on Earth, but even he was afraid of Emma when she had on her Try Me look, so I wasn't surprised when he climbed onto the bed and let me snuggle into his side.

Two days had passed since Gabriel had rescued me, and I was still stuck in the hospital, listed as a VIP patient under Emma's charge. No reporters were allowed in, though my family had been in and out since they'd all flown in the day before. Emma was treating me for severe dehydration and malnutrition, as well as letting me rest under observation from the more insidious effects of the waterboarding. The first day I was admitted, they'd set my broken arm and then sedated me for extreme exhaustion, after which I'd slept for 30 hours straight, Gabriel curled up next to me in the bed because I would get restless without him.

Emma had authorized a myriad of tests, but her first priority had been to determine the status of the baby. She'd done blood work as well as an ultrasound, and had finally reported that the fetus was alive and well, if a little malnourished, and had added prenatal vitamins to the IV drip attached to my arm.

Peter and Emma had been godsends. She had taken the time to help me bathe and wash my hair, the first time I'd been clean since I'd been taken captive, though I'd had a minor panic attack at the sound of running water. Still, it was worth it to be clean again, especially given that, as soon as we were alone, Gabriel had planted a ring box on the bed and told me in no uncertain terms that he was going to marry me. I couldn't help but laugh; how utterly like him to make it a demand instead of a request. I had been giggling so hard that I couldn't answer, and poor Gabriel had become more and more nervous, which just made me laugh harder at seeing this incredibly overpowered, invincible man practically wringing his hands with nerves. Finally, I had just nodded and pulled his head down for a kiss, still laughing.

Peter had personally taken charge of the federal investigation. Every day, he would visit and give me updates; Dr. Goswami was in a high security prison awaiting trial, but it didn't look likely that he would ever be released, even on parole. My disappearance had become something of a media circus because the Specials Project was so high profile after the original bombing that had killed Amanda, and within hours of my kidnapping, America knew that I was pregnant, which only added to the frenzy. Steven told me that there had been a candlelight vigil every night outside the lab, and my mother – after smothering me with kisses and hugs and "don't you ever scare me like that again"'s – had confirmed the same events at our church. Thankfully, Peter had kindly taken charge of press releases and the like since I was in no position to do so.

Finally, Emma flipped the chart closed and we looked at her expectantly. "You are officially discharged. Now get out of my hospital," she said with a wink.


	16. Chapter 16

I woke with a start, then promptly pulled a pillow over my face. "Ariadne, get out of my bed. It's like 5 a.m."

My sister snorted and yanked the pillow away. "Try 10, and it's your wedding day, so I suggest you drink the coffee and get up." I bolted upright. Wedding day? _Right_. Wedding day. "Theeeeere it is," Ariadne said sarcastically, shoving a mug in my hand.

I grimaced, but accepted it and went to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, I emerged with wet hair only to find a flock of women in my bedroom, all in varying states of undress. "Uh, what exactly happened to everyone getting dressed in a hotel?"

"Yeah, you were overruled," Ariadne said casually, curled up on my bed sipping her coffee with an evil grin. I thinned my lips and threw my towel at her – I didn't have anything that every woman in the room didn't have a pair of herself, so nudity didn't faze me –, nailing her in the head.

"Hero, that is not bride-like behavior," my mother chastised, sounding bored as she applied her makeup at my vanity. "And Ariadne, stop taunting your sister. It's her wedding day."

"Yes, Mom," we said at the same time, though I stuck my tongue out at my sister when she smirked at me.

"Now put some clothes on, Hero. We have hair and makeup appointments," Mom instructed.

I blinked. "'We'? What is this 'we'?" Hair and makeup had been my planned relaxation for the day... the only relaxation, since Mom had planned out the entire day down to the minute. "Who else is coming?"

"All of us," my sister-in-law Gretchen chimed in, holding her hands up as if to say "TA-DA!" "Surprise!"

"But...I was told there would be massages," I said, feeling very much like Milton in Office Space.

Mom stole my coffee from my hands with a raised eyebrow. "You're the bride. You should know by now that what you want doesn't matter."

"Besides, I'm sure Gabriel will make sure you're _very_ relaxed tonight," teased my cousin Rachel, and the other women laughed. I just rolled my eyes with an amused smile and disappeared into my closet to get dressed.

Several hours later, the women and my family tried to kill me in a church. Well, technically, they were lacing me into a corset, but this wasn't the sexy number I'd worn to Gabriel's birthday. No, this thing was designed to conquer fat, and I was fairly sure it was made of steel, because I was pretty positive that I felt some of my ribs crack as I lost all ability to breathe.

"Stop whining, Hero. It hurts to be beautiful," my grandmother chided as she watched my sister tighten the contraption. I shot my mother an incredulous look across the room; I hadn't said a word, because there was no way I was wasting my limited oxygen supply on speech. Ariadne snickered from behind me as she tied the corset closed, not needing to see my face to know what I was thinking.

My mother clapped her hands rather imperiously. "Bring out the dress." Instantly, one of my cousins brought out the bagged hanger that held my wedding dress.

It had been my Grandmother's, then my mother's, then my sister's, and now mine. It had been hand stitched by my great-grandmother, a well-known seamstress in her time. The floor-length gown had yellowed slightly with age, but still maintained the simple elegance that had lead four women to wear it, with a lace collar and bodice, and long, fitted sleeves. The skirt was made of several layers of tulle that still floated slightly when its wearer moved. It was also the reason that I'd had to be laced so tightly into my corset; my grandmother had been smaller than I when she wore the gown, and I hadn't wanted to be the first person to have the dress altered. It was also the reason that I hadn't needed months to plan the wedding, since I didn't have to order the gown.

Finally, I fought my way through the layers of the dress to poke my head through the top, and my mother promptly burst into tears. For a moment, Ariadne and I looked at each other in bewilderment – this wasn't normally when she cried at her children's weddings – then both of us knelt by her chair, not caring about our dresses. "Momma, it's ok."

"I'm sorry," she said shakily. "You're just my last baby to get married."

"Dry your eyes, Sugarfoot," my grandmother said gently, using her petname for my mother. "Hero isn't the last any more than you were my last. Your grandbabies will get married, too."

I nodded as she patted my mom's shoulder. "Nanette is right. Don't cry."

My niece came up and climbed into Mom's lap, wrapping her arms around my mother's neck. "It'll be ok. I'll wear the dress, too." The adult women laughed wetly at the innocent words that would probably be true in twenty more years, and the photographer snapped a picture at that moment.

"This is the perfect photo," the woman said with a smile. "Four generations of brides."

A knock at the door interrupted us, and my twin brother's head popped in with a hand covering his eyes. "Everyone put clothes on. I don't want to see anything nasty." We laughed and told him to come in. Leo smiled as he saw me standing there. "Well, Evil Twin, you look positively angelic. What will you do with your horns?"

I rolled my eyes, but accepted his hug. "They'll be firmly tucked away in my veil."

He laughed and stepped firmly into the room, revealing a box in his hand. "I come bearing gifts."

I clapped my hands gleefully before reaching for it. "I love presents. Gimme!"

He grinned and held it above my head tauntingly, knowing I couldn't jump in the dress. "What's the magic word?"

"_Mooooooom_," I whined.

"Well, that's _a_ magic word," Leo said grumpily.

My mom coughed to cover a laugh. "Leonidas, give your sister the box. It's her wedding day, so she's fully within her rights to hurt you with impunity." Leo sighed and handed it to me, and I smirked triumphantly as I accepted it; no matter how old we got, Leo and I would always be about five years old to each other.

I gasped when I opened the box to reveal a silver locket, pearls embedded in the oval face. Biting my lip to fight tears, I opened the locket to see a picture of us taken at his birthday party. I was laughing at Emma, who had taken the picture, and Gabriel was smiling down at me in absolute adoration. On the other side of the locket was an inscription: _As long as I have breath in my body. Gabriel_.

"Oh, that asshole is gonna make me cry right before I walk down the aisle," I sighed, staring up at the ceiling in an effort to contain my tears. Ariadne pinched my arm. "OW! What the hell, woman?"

She arched an eyebrow. "You're not about to cry anymore," she pointed out. "Now put it on, and get walking. It's time to go."

I stuck my tongue out at her, but obediently clasped the necklace around my neck. Ariadne quickly slipped my veil into my hair and pulled the front over my face. She stepped back to give me a critical once-over before nodding. "You're ready."

Nervously, I followed Leonidas out of the room, the other women tailing me.

Dad became distinctly teary-eyes when he saw me approach, and I frowned at him, wagging my finger in warning. "Don't you dare, cause if you cry, then I'll cry, and I'm wearing way too much eyeliner for that to be an option."

He laughed wetly, but held out his arm, which I readily laced my own through. Mom came and hugged me tightly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "These are your last moments as a single woman. I love you so much." She sniffed pathetically one more time, then disappeared into the chapel.

"You can still run, you know," Dad whispered in my ear. "Just nod your head, and I'll get you out of here before anyone notices."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, pressing a kiss to my Dad's cheek. "I love you, too, Daddy." The wedding planner nodded pointedly at us, and we straightened our clothes briefly just as the doors swung open.

My gaze immediately sought Gabriel as we walked down the aisle, and he looked awed when we locked gazes. He was normally a very contained man, but the love and pride in his eyes made me beam brilliantly at him. In his tailored suit with his hair combed back and his thick eyebrows highlighting his dark eyes...I had never seen a more handsome man, and I hoped he could see the pride in my eyes. He was everything I wanted.

It seemed take an eternity to reach him, but finally I found myself standing before him, but finally Dad placed my hand in Gabriel's, and I stepped up to the alter, handing my bouquet to Ariadne, my maid of honor.

I knelt slightly as Gabriel lifted my veil, smiling warmly at me as we finally clasped hands.

"Friends," the priest said, "we come here now to bind together two souls in the everlasting bonds of marriage. Here, in view of us all, they shall speak their vows. What God has brought together, let no man part. We shall now hear your vows."

Gabriel's soothing baritone rang clearly through the chapel, but I saw the tears in his eyes as he looked at me. "Hero, I've waited 37 years for you. There were times I despaired of ever finding you, but now that I have, I realize every second was just to prepare me to be a man worthy of you. I'm not a great man, and there are things I wish I could change about myself, but you make me a better man just by looking at me the way you are now. I waited 37 years to find you, and now I look at the woman before me, so beautiful that it makes my heart ache, and I know I would wait another thousand if it meant another moment with you." I smiled at him now through my tears as he took my hand and slid a thin silver band next to my engagement ring.

It was my turn to speak, and I looked nervously at the audience. "Breathe,

Hero," Gabriel murmured with a reassuring smile, his eyes warm and calming. "Ignore them. Just talk to me."

I smiled gratefully at him and took a deep breath, relaxing a little as he met my eyes patiently. "Gabriel, I've known since the day we met that if people were rain, I'm drizzle and you're a hurricane. I could promise that I will spend my life worshiping you, but that would be a disservice. Those vows are for idealistic couples ruled by their hearts. I am not idealistic. I am not ruled by my heart." I took a breath. "I am sure. I am steady. And I know what I am made of. So this I am sure: you have become my best friend, my confidant, my partner, and my protector. This heart, it beats for you. So today, I promise to be at your side no matter the world throws at us. I promise that you will never find yourself on your knees without my hand to help you stand. I promise you that you will never know what it's like to be alone. I promise you me." Ariadne handed me a gold band, and I worked it onto Gabriel's finger.

"Now that Gabriel Gray and Hero Ramsey have given themselves to each other by the promises they have exchanged, I pronounce them to be husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." The priest smiled at us. "You may kiss the bride."

Gabriel grabbed my face and kissed me as the congregation cheered, and I laughed against his lips when he fist pumped victoriously. Hand in hand, we left the church, beaming at each other as he helped me into the silver Bentley that waited for us.

The reception was where we had decided to spend the real money, open bar and a live band in a hotel ballroom. When Peter had told me how many people wanted to come to what I'd intended to be a small wedding, I'd been flummoxed until he explained that the recent press and the influence I'd had over the Special community had turned me into something of a figurehead. This, in turn, meant that the wedding had become a see-and-be-seen event, and ballroom was filled with not only family and friends, but also the who's who of New York socialites. As a wedding gift (and what I suspected was excellent PR) Mr. Aringheri had offered to pay for the whole thing as thanks. Given that his company was raking in cash from my team's hard work, Gabriel and I had decided to let him.

"Thank you," Gabriel was saying to a beautiful brunette in what I suspected was Versace. She smiled with a bat of her lashes that made me raise my eyebrows, and fluttered away from the high table where we sat. Gabriel leaned over. "Who the hell was that?"

"No idea," I replied instantly, smiling and waving back to a couple I didn't recognize. "I literally have no clue who half our guests are."

I caught his grin in the corner of my eye when he brushed a lock of my hair over my shoulder. "Wanna play a game," he asked mischievously in my ear.

I peered at him sideways, a smile playing at my lips. "What did you have in mind?"

"We could start messing with them. For instance, see that woman coming over to congratulate us?" I followed his gaze to the woman he was talking about, my hackles instantly rising at the coy smile and extraordinarily slutty dress Ms. Double D's was wearing. "We could pretend we know her, and call her by some random name. I'm thinking Gloria."

I buried my face in my glass of sparkling grape juice to cover my laugh. "I knew I married you for a reason," I murmured. louder, Gloria, how nice to see you again. Thank you for coming!"

"I'm surprised you made it. I thought you and Phil were in the Bahamas," Gabriel added with a surprised look that even I would have bought.

The woman's eyes were wide, and her smile slipped for a moment before being back to full brightness. Her super-white teeth gleamed in the dim light as she watched Gabriel, subtly leaning over so he could get a full view of her cleavage. "Oh, I dumped Phil," she lied brightly. Her gaze was predatory as she placed a hand on his arm, adding, "I'm playing the field. He was a terrible lover."

Gabriel noticed my eyes narrow, and quickly interceded. "He's your brother." Gabriel's look of horror was so genuine that even I would have bought it.

The woman looked equally horrified, but she was stuck: either admit she had lied, or keep with the sordid tale. Flustered, she didn't even try to recover. "I... congratulations. ..bye."

I arched an eyebrow at Gabriel. "You're a little evil, you know that?"

He coughed into his champagne glass. "I wasn't the one who wanted to rip off her breast implants and shove them down her throat." My surprise must have shown on my face, because he shot me a look and set down his glass. "I didn't need telepathy to know what you were thinking. You have a glass face."

I shrugged daintily. "You're _my_ man."

Amused, he eyed me sideways for a heartbeat, then stood up and pulled me to my feet. He waited until we had the attention of the room before pulling me to him and kissing me deeply in front of all our guests. I readily kissed him back, but then he dipped me back like the V-Day kiss and I melted a little, lost in the intensity of his lips moving over mine. I snapped back to reality and laughed against his lips when applause and wolf-whistles erupted around the room, Peter and Ariadne the loudest of all. "Think that got the point across," he asked when we straightened, our faces still a breath apart, his face a portrait of male satisfaction.

Beet red from both pleasure and embarrassment, I coughed into my fist. "Yep, that'd do it."

He grinned wickedly, then held up his hand for silence, his other arm still holding me to his side. "Thank you all for coming and sharing this day with us. Now, I'm taking my wife home." If I was blushing before, my face was now threatening to spontaneously combust as he tugged me away from the table.

The applause and laughter from so many people covered the sharp crack of gunfire, and all I felt was the sudden fire that exploded over my arm. Gabriel looked back to see why I had suddenly stiffened, but then his gaze dropped to my dress, which was already red with blood.

There was an almost visible change when he became Sylar, his eyes darkening and his face growing cold as ice. He pulled me against his chest and covered my head with his hand, shielding me with his own body as he dragged me over to the nearest door, fighting his way through the panicking crowd. My heart was in my throat and my hands instinctively covered my belly, as though the small appendages could protect the growing life inside me.

The doors were blocked in the mass exodus and Gabriel obviously saw the same threat from trampling that I did, because a table spontaneously flipped onto its side and he shoved me down. "You _will_ stay here," he growled before straightening, his eyes almost glowing with an animalistic, predatory anger that someone had wounded his pregnant mate.

Thinking quickly as others cowered beside me, I grabbed a nearby purse and rifled through it until I found a compact mirror and a cell phone. I angled the mirror see what was going on as I called 911 with the other hand.

"911. What is your emergency?"

Through the crowd and my low vantage point, I couldn't see the shooter, but Gabriel didn't have the same problem. He was steadily stalking towards one corner of the room, telekinetically flipping over tables as he went for trapped guests to hide behind. "A gunman has opened fire in one of The Plaza ballrooms. We'll need a lot of ambulances and police." Peter appeared out of nowhere at Sylar's side, and together they approached the shooter.

"Ma'am, what is your name?"

I gasped as a bullet pierced Sylar and he paused, but straightened after a moment. "Dr. Hero Ramsey. Shit, I mean Hero Gray. It's my wedding reception."

"Dr. Grey, I need you to not panic. Find a bathroom and lock yourself in. Do not engage the gunman. Stay on the line with me. Police are on their way."

I pulled the phone away from my ear to look at it incredulously. "We're trapped in a ballroom full of people with superpowers, and you think no one is going to 'engage the gunman'," I asked sarcastically. "Someone is already engaging the damn gunman, and it's my freaking husband and his _freaking_ Best Man."

"Ma'am, calm down. Are you in a safe place?"

I could see the shooter reloading now that most of the guests had fled or were cowering behind tables, and I hastily gave the operator a description. "The gunman is tall, maybe 6'1? And I'd ballpark his age to me late 50's, early 60's. Gray hair, wearing a blue windbreaker and khakis."

Gabriel flung him across the room and pinned him against the wall, and the man lay there stunned for a moment. The operator said something, but I ignored her, focused on the gunman raising his gun. I hissed when Gabriel took a flurry of bullets to the chest and abdomen that lifted him off his feet, and Peter telekinetically ripped the gun from his hand. "If he makes me a widow before I get my wedding night, I'm going to put my foot so far up his ass he'll choke on it," I snarled, unsure if I was referring to the gunman or my husband.

Gabriel picked himself up off the floor and I saw the bullets fall as he healed himself. Thank God for Rapid Cellular Regeneration. The operator repeated whatever she said, but I just thrust the phone behind me, "Talk to the operator." Whoever was behind me – I thought I remembered a man in his twenties – grabbed the phone.

The gun was out of the shooter's hands now, so I stood and ran towards Sylar and Peter as they dropped the man to the floor and towered over him menacingly. Both men looked up as I reached them. My husband looked like he wanted to strangle me. "I told you to stay there."

"I have selective hearing problems," I retorted distractedly. My attention was on the man glaring at me with pure hatred. "Who are you? Why did you do this? Was it my work?"

He spat at me, and my husband telekinetically backhanded him. He shook it off and glared at Sylar. "You're a serial killer. You killed my wife!"

"And you wanted him to feel the same pain," Peter said, glancing up at me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "How is it that I'm still the target, even when it's not me they're mad at?"

"Because you married a _monster_," the man spat. "What kind of devil whore does that?"

I opened my mouth to retort – stupid, I know—, but my clever rejoinder was cut off when the man yanked out a small gun and shot me before any of us could react. All of us looked at my abdomen, where blood blossomed like a macabre flower on the white of my wedding gown.

Dazed, I pressed my hand to the wound and looked up at my husband, whose eyes were horrified. He caught me as I started to fall, and I vaguely noticed Peter literally punch the shooter unconscious. "I thought that only worked in movies," I murmured dizzily as Peter knelt beside us.

"Hero, focus on me," Gabriel said firmly. And it was him, Gabriel, not Sylar, cradling me in his arms on the floor. I looked up at him. Those strong eyebrows and the beard already darkening his jaw really were perversely his most attractive feature. You wouldn't expect that of body hair.

"So, this sucks," I said dizzily, before coughing on the blood that was filling my throat.

Emma was suddenly at my side, her blue bridesmaid's dress spotted with blood, though I suspected it was someone else's. "You really do look good in blue," I observed fuzzily, then screamed as she pressed hard on my abdomen. The pain made it somehow click in my head, and everything became suddenly very real, and I knew I was dying.

"Hero." My panicked gaze flicked to Gabriel, who cupped my face. He looked truly terrified for the first time since I'd know him. "You do not get to die on me."

"We knew it was going to happen sooner or later, sweetheart," I told him gently. Or at least, I tried to. It came out sort of blood-choked.

He pressed his forehead against mine, and there was wetness on my face that I knew were his tears. "Please don't leave me. Please? Please fight it." To hear such a strong, nigh omnipotent man who I loved so much begging like his own life depended on made my heart physically ache in my chest, and I summoned the strength to touch his face gently. It seemed that was all my body could take, and then everything went black.


	17. Chapter 17

I was incredibly surprised when I woke up in the hospital. Not that I was in the hospital, mind you, but that I was waking up at all. Even in my sedative induced haze, I knew that it was unexpected. Groggily, I opened my eyes to see Gabriel standing at the window staring out at the city with his arms crossed, his silhouette sharp in the darkness. "Well, this certainly ruins my dramatic death scene."

A smiled graced his face at my voice and he turned to come quickly to the bed, brushing my hair back from my face and laying a gentle kiss on my lips. "I take it by your sarcasm that you're alright."

I smiled tiredly. "As alright as someone can be after getting shot." My arm twinged, and I added, "Twice." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and I knew something was wrong. "Gabriel, what aren't you telling me?"

His eyes darkened and for a long moment he didn't say anything or even move, watching me with that unblinking stare of his. "Can you move over?" My heart sunk at his words and I frowned, but obligingly shuffled to one side of the bed so that he could lay down with me.

Attached to so many wires, I couldn't turn on my side, but he curled up against me and wrapped an arm across my waist, careful of my wound. His lips pressed against my hair. "You lost a lot of blood, and your body went into shock. Your heart stopped…" He paused here, and I felt a slight tremor go through him at the memory. How awful it must have been for him to watch me die. "They gave you a transfusion of my blood, and it healed you, but it was too much for the baby."

With news like that, your mind can't really process what it means. You hear the words and you think you understand, but I'd begun to learn that true understanding takes time, that you have to let the idea roll around in your head for a while like tasting fine wine, let your mind process all the nuances and subtle flavors of that kind of pain. So I just lay there and stared dry-eyed at the ceiling, wondering what it would feel like when it really sunk in and what to say to someone who had already had time to appreciate the full bouquet of disappointment and grief. In the end, I decided to be honest. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Our hands laced together, and I began absent-mindedly playing with his wedding ring, twisting the still-unfamiliar titanium band around his finger. Titanium was a tricky beast, especially for a wedding ring. It was used to cut diamonds, which meant that most medical professionals didn't like it on their patients because they couldn't cut through the metal if they needed to. Gabriel, however, was essentially immortal and had wanted a ring that would last as long as he did. It was one of the few times I'd ever seen him let emotion sway his decision-making process. He'd gotten the inside engraved with my name, and my heart still warmed at the tangible proof that his love for me was eternal. "What happened after I passed out? Is everyone else alright?"

"There were a few injuries, but nothing serious. Landers was targeting us."

"Is that his name? Landers?" The normal name didn't fit with the unbalanced man I remembered.

Gabriel sighed. "Richard Landers. He was married to Sue Landers before I killed her for her power."

"Which one?"

"Lie detection."

How strange to imagine my husband had once been a serial killer. This man, who was holding me in his arms and letting me play with his wedding ring, who was arguably smarter than I was, and had risked his life for mine on more than one occasion, had once killed for personal gain. But then my mind pulled up an image of Sylar holding Dr. Goswami in the air and torturing him because he'd hurt me, and it wasn't quite so difficult to believe.

I stopped twisting his ring and laced my fingers through his, turning my head to look him in the eye. "Gabriel, it was another life. You're a different man now."

He rested his forehead against mine. "This is the second time in as many months that I thought you'd died, Hero."

I smiled wryly, though both our eyes were closed. "Well, I'm not deliberately making a habit of it."

"I know. But I know now that I can't do this," he said softly. "I can't watch you die again, whether it's from a gunman or from old age."

My eyes flew open and I jerked my head back to look at him. "You're leaving me." It wasn't a question.

He shook his head. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I never believed in soul mates, but you're the great love of my life."

"And you're mine," I said honestly, knowing his Lie Detection would show my sincerity. I wondered what he was getting at.

His dark eyes met mine levelly. "I want to give you Rapid Cellular Regeneration."

I blinked. "Immortality? You want to make me immortal?" He nodded, still watching me. "You know that's not possible, Sweetheart. I'm a Normal. My Paracortex is dormant."

"Dr. Suresh once created a formula that can give powers to Normals," he said, running his fingers up and down my arm. The sensation gave me chills.

"I heard about it in grad school. The formula was unstable. It nearly killed him."

His eyes were fervent now. "You and I could stabilize the solution. Primatech had the formula. We just have to find it."

I frowned, mentally shying away. "Even if that's true, I'm not sure I would take it. I don't know if I can watch my family grow old and die while I stay young. I would want to give them the serum, too, and that's a slippery slope."

My mind, of course, had already come up with a solution: don't tell them, and gradually break off contact. Gabriel was thinking the same thing, I knew. Yet he didn't pressure me. "Please, just...think about it."

"I will."

0o0o0o0o0o0

My husband's blood meant that I finished healing within hours, and was released from the hospital in time to see my family off to the airport. But now that it was just the two of us in our little apartment, there was nothing to keep my mind off of Gabriel's request.

How did you make a decision like this? How could a person choose between one life with their family, growing old and dying while their husband stayed young, or staying eternally young with their husband and watch their family wither and pass like leaves in the wind? How could I choose between the love of my life and my family?

Logically, I knew it wasn't really a choice. I was much younger than everyone but Leo, which meant that he and I would be forced to attend the funerals of all our loved ones, left behind by the insidious cruelty of age difference. And since women tended to outlive men, I would in all likelihood bury even Leo. It was something I'd accepted, but I'd always thought that I would be old and grey, one foot in my own grave, when they left me behind. I'd thought I wouldn't have to suffer alone for long, because I wouldn't have long left myself.

This awful choice, though...it meant that I would feel that loss for eternity, even with Gabriel beside me to lighten the burden. And what of our children? Rapid Cellular Regeneration wasn't in our genes, so there was no chance for them to inherit it. They would be forced to make the choice when they became adults, and it would kill me if they chose mortality.

That was, of course, if I could even have children. Pregnancy and childbirth were brutal on a woman's body, because the immune system would view it like a parasite. There was every likelihood that a body enhanced by RCR would reject a pregnancy, would attack the invading life in favor of its own. With no studies done on the subject, there was a very real possibility that I would essentially be sterilizing myself.

Yet there was an equally good case to be made for accepting Gabriel's proposal. To be eternally young and healthy, to never again fear death from car accidents or cancer, was something man had been searching for since the dawn of time and was a prospect I couldn't quite bring myself to cast aside. I was human: I was didn't want to die. More than that, I saw the toll it took on Gabriel every time something catastrophic happened and he thought I was dead (and sweet Jesus, I was a lightning rod for catastrophes). This would ensure he never had to watch me die.

There was even an escape clause, in a way. Gabriel had once told me that there was a kill-spot on immortals, a place that would put them out if impaled. His was on his arm, which was a fact I intended to take to the grave...or, well, not. Still, so long as the spot was staked, the RCR couldn't kick in, which meant the body would decompose. Logic suggested that impaling the spot indefinitely until the body decomposed beyond all possibility of regeneration would effectively kill that person.

I didn't even know if I could create the serum, anyway. Primatech and Pinehearst had possessed the two halves of the formula, and Peter's father had the Catalyst, but all the pieces had been destroyed. If I made any attempt to create a new serum, I would have to start from scratch, and I had no idea where to possibly begin with something like that.

"You are so beautiful."

I turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway of our bedroom watching me with dark eyes, his shirtless skin pale in the glow of the city lights out the living room windows. I wondered how long he had been standing there, watching me stare blindly into the darkness from my perch on the couch. Even with sleep-mussed hair, he was beautiful to me. "I don't know how to make this decision."

He sighed. "I know." He pulled away from the doorframe and came to sit by me, pulling me across his lap and wrapping warm arms around me. He was always like a furnace. "I've asked the impossible of you. I never had to consider the things you're facing." We'd had several discussions on the subject, but I was no closer to a decision.

"What if... What if I said no?" I asked quietly. "What if I aged and got ugly? Would you still love me then?"

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I will love you until the day I die, Hero. It's not your physical beauty that draws me."

I sighed. "What if we grow tired of each other? Centuries of immortality together... I imagine it would take its toll, even on us."

He rested his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes. "I just want the opportunity to cross that bridge. The way things are going, I'm going to lose you before old age can take you from me. Every time you walk out the door, I see reckless drivers, muggers, crashing planes, fires... And that's not even considering the other things that keep me up at night. Cancer, an undiagnosed heart problem, an aneurism. One day you'll go where I can't follow."

I swallowed. I hadn't known he worried about those things. Honestly, I was young and healthy; the idea of illness had never occurred to me. "I can't make this decision now. Let's continue with our lives and table it. I want to have your children. I want a life with you. But we can work on the serum, and have the option. We don't have to decide now."

The kiss he rewarded me with melted me to my core.


	18. Chapter 18

I came to consciousness slowly as a weight settled behind me and suddenly I was wrapped in a smell as familiar to me as a well-loved book.

"I didn't expect you to be here," Gabriel murmured, pressing slow kisses to my neck. "When did you get in?"

I smiled and turned in his arms. "A few hours ago. I tried to stay up, but jet-lag got the better of me."

"Well, ten years in India will do that." For a while, we lay there facing each other. A breeze from the open window carried the smell of sunlight and summer. We didn't need to speak; we just drank in the sight. Centuries together, and still the sweetness of reuniting never dimmed. "How long will you stay?"

"Indefinitely. Apparently, ten years is as long as I can go without you." He smiled and pressed a kiss to my nose. "Are the kids coming?"

His grin widened. "Not until tomorrow morning. Sybil and Saoirse are bringing their husbands at 11, and Peter, Emma, Leo, and Gabe plan to arrive around noon." After all my whining about ridiculous names growing up, and I'd done the same to my own children. The only regular names were from friends we'd lost to time. "They're bringing their children, too." He sounded a little disgruntled, and I laughed.

"Well, this is why we bought the big house," I teased. House was a relative term. The mansion had 15 rooms, all to house a family that had grown exponentially as our kids grew up and granted their mates immortality. Every ten year anniversary, they all came home to their parents to celebrate with us, and as our brood had grown, so had our home.

Gabriel and I sometimes spent years apart, exploring the ever-changing world, but always came back to each other. The time apart kept us changing as individuals, and with each reunion came time to fall in love all over again as we became reacquainted. We wouldn't leave the bed for days: we would spend hours making love, worshipping each other with a passion that had never diminished, and then days telling stories about our travels. For all my adventures, and all of his, I never found myself growing tired of this man. He still surprised me.

"So, if the kids aren't coming for another day, then it sounds like we have some time on our hands," I said, rolling us over until I straddled him. He slapped my butt playfully and I laughed.

On its own, my shirt ripped apart, and his eyebrows flew up. "You got a tattoo," he breathed. His eyes darkened as he traced the elaborate design that ran like a belt around my waist. "I approve."

I leered. "I thought you might." Tattoos faded and vanished with time, and I had a habit of acquiring them with each new country.

"You know," he murmured, sitting up until he could lick my neck. My eyes drifted shut and I tilted my head back to give him better access. "I've been thinking that we could use another room in the house."

My eyes flew open and I stared at him. "12 kids weren't enough, eh?" I asked with a smile. "I'm starting to think I'm just a baby maker for you."

He laughed. "Well, you're never more beautiful than when you're pregnant," he conceded, "and we haven't had one in almost a century."

He rolled us until he was on top. His body pressed me down into the mattress. I kissed his jaw. "We do make pretty babies. Plus, we've got enough scientists in the family. Maybe this one will be an artist or a writer. Really, we're doing the world a favor."

"I take philanthropy very seriously," he agreed, but his mouth was trailing down my neck to my breasts. I shivered in his arms.

Five centuries, and he could still set me on fire. Another five, and maybe we'd finally be able to keep our hands off each other for five minutes.

I very much doubted it.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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